All That Glitters
by deConstruction
Summary: [Sequel to Some Kind of Bliss] With Trish struggling to find her place in the world, Randy's career is on the decline. Will Trish sacrifice her own dreams for those of the man she loves? Or will their marriage crumble under the strain? Please R&R!
1. One and Only Diva

**_Authors Note: _So I was originally working a Chapter for 'Confide in Me', and this story just hit me. I don't have an outline like I did for 'Follow Me Home' and 'Some Kind of Bliss', so you will have to bare with me on this guys. I know what I want to happen, but not how to resolve it. But I'm excited to write this, as I want closure for my first Randy and Trish pairing.**

**This is third part of my Randy/Trish pairing. The first was 'Follow Me Home' and the second was 'Some Kind of Bliss'. I try to write each story as a stand-alone and not refer back to much to the previous two stories, so you don't have to have read the first two in order to read this. But it would be easier to as you'd have a better sense of these two people are and where they're coming from and what's happened in their lives.**

**Reviews are welcomed and very much encouraged, because they give me the reason to continue on with what I write. If you don't like something I write, please be constructive with your comments, and please don't throw anything...I'm still knew to this. **

**I own nothing and not a single person in this story (unless stated otherwise). If I did, I'd be as rich as Vinny Mac (who does own all this stuff) and wouldn't be doing this right now. So please don't sue ok? Hope you guys like. Please read and review:)**

"Alright Trish, give me some more cleavage. That's it, angle your body a little more towards me. Perfect! Okay, we're shooting!"

Trish did her very best to keep the flicker of annoyance from crossing her face. How well she actually did, only the people around her could tell. Fixing that well known, sultry smirk on her face, Trish did as she was instructed, leaning a little further over the edge of the bed so her breasts were on full display for the camera.

Beauty shots were one thing, and even erotic she could cope with if the situation called for it. But Trish drew the line at being blatantly smutty, and it was surprisingly fine line when you were having your picture taken in an extremely revealing lingerie set.

_It's the price you have to pay for success Patricia_, she reminded herself. She had chosen this career, so she just had to suck it up and get on with it.

After being released from her contract with the WWE almost eight months ago, Trish hadn't exactly sat around idly as the time passed. Far from it - after a month of decorating the home she now shared with her husband in St. Louis, and endless coffee mornings with her mother, her mother in law and ex-WWE divas Nora 'Molly Holly' Greewald and Lisa 'Ivory' Moretti, Trish had realised she would go stir crazy being sat at home doing nothing.

Many had assumed she would move into the world of acting, as most former professional wrestlers seemed to do, and actively pursue a career in Hollywood. Fuelling those rumours, Trish had been involved in several television spots, hosting 'Saturday Night Live', and appearing on numerous talk shows ranging from Tyra Banks to Oprah. But in truth Trish had no active desire to move into the world of acting. Sure, she wanted to keep busy and performances on television could be fun, but more than anything Trish craved a sense of normality to her life which had been missing since she joined the WWE.

Trish just wanted a life that was her own, and not dictated to her from a view of business needs as apposed to her own personal happiness. Trish had taken measures whilst still being with the WWE to become greater than she was. But after being involved in several high profile matches, Trish had been forced to realise that ultimately, she was simply a lucrative pawn in the masterminded scheme of the Chairman. Her relationship with Vince was a great better than it had been when she'd left the WWE. Indeed, many in the wrestling community felt he had mellowed considerably, perhaps as he was winding down his involvement with the company, intent on passing on the reigns of power to his children.

The choice to return to the company was cleary left open to Trish. Anytime she wanted back in, she needed only make a single phone call, and she would be right back in things. Of course she missed the glare of the lights and the raw of the crowd, but Trish wasn't left with an overwhelming desire to back to the company.

Deciding on a different course of action than wrestling and acting, Trish had held several meetings with designers and artists from different fields, wanting to find a new direction to push herself into. It turned out, Trish had quite the flair for fashion, and had successfully designed her own range of Women's Lingerie, entitled 'Stratusfied'. They had been the hottest designs ever to grace stores, with many shops finding it difficult to keep up with the high demand from the consuming public.

Soon, Trish had her very own expanding little business, which was outdoing all expectations anyone had originally held for the former-sports entertainer. Capitalising on her success, Trish jumped on the band-wagon of the celebrity world, releasing her own line of perfumes. The first had been entitled 'Stratusfaction', which outsold anything by Beyonce, Jennifer Lopez and Britney Spears had produced in their debut efforts. Indeed, it seemed as though Trish really had the 'Midas touch' and was flavour of the month…for the past eight months.

Well into the planning stage for her second scent, and designing a new range of strapless bra's, Trish had been called for a photo shoot. It seemed to make sense that as Trish was the designer of the garments, that she would model them for publicity and promotion purposes.

And that had led her to this particular studio, where she sprawled across a bed covered with heady crimson satin sheets, writhing in her 'Barely-There' range of underwear. Contrary to popular belief, she had never been comfortable with this level of exposure. She was a simple, almost shy girl at heart, and being stripped down to her underwear still gave her a feeling of nerves that she could never get past. It was a closed set, with only the most essential people needed being present, and still Trish was definitely uncomfortable with all these pairs of eyes staring at her.

Besides, from the vantage point, Trish could see a conspicuous 'lump' in the front of the light operators jeans. Deciding not to think about it anymore than she had to, Trish emptied her mind of all uncomfortable thoughts, re-pouting her frosted red lips as the photographer barked instructions on which way to pose.

Motion from the side of the set stole away Trish's attention, causing the photographer to curse aloud. In fact, Trish's assistant Phoebe was cautiously edging her way towards the bed, holding Trish's open phone in her hands. Mouthing the word 'Randy' at the blonde Canadian, Phoebe blushed intense red as she was berated by the representative of the company producing Trish's underwear.

Shaking her head, Trish carefully extracted herself from the sheets, grabbing her white robe from the make up artist, quickly covering herself up as she walked over to take the call from Phoebe.

"Uh, Trish darling! We're still shooting!" The exasperated cry came from the photographer, handing his camera to one of his 'minions' as another made a show of fanning him down.

"We're taking a break Martin." Trish shot back curtly. She was fed, tired and cranky to boot, not to mention the dull ache she had in her hips from twisting and turning herself into a myriad of positions to satisfy the photographer's 'vision'. Smiling softly at Phoebe, Trish gently patted the short, dark haired girl on the back she took the phone from her.

Holding the receiver to her ear, Trish chewed her bottom lip nervously as she spoke. "Hello?"

It was amazing to Trish, that even after almost two years together, she still got the same school girl butterflies when it came to her husband. Randy Orton was one of the sexiest men alive, as he would gladly tell you himself. Apart from his 6 foot four frame of solid, sculpted muscle and handsome, chiselled features, his personality was as charming as it was intoxicating. You couldn't help but feel attracted to Randy, no matter who you were. His power over women was undeniable, as was his connection to any guy. He was every woman's fantasy, and every man's best friend.

And best of all, he was Trish's husband. His voice was low and sexy, with Trish just picturing the curve of his beautiful lips as he spoke the words. "There's my baby girl."

Giggling, Trish sat herself on the make up chair as people fussed around her. "Hey baby. I've missed you."

"I've missed you more baby," Randy purred, sending tiny goose bumps erupting over Trish's skin, "real bad too. What are you doing?"

Trish considered the words as she spoke, her lips curving into a smile "Writhing around on a bed in my underwear." She giggled softly at the sound of Randy exhaling slowly as he pictured the sight in his head.

"That's the shit baby. Tell me more." Trish giggled louder as she heard the zip of Randy's pants go down, only imagining what he was up to. Realising now perhaps wasn't the best time to be conducting a brief bout of phone sex, Trish changed the subject.

"Down boy. It's a photo shoot. Where are you?" Trish heard Randy's sigh of frustration, and the sound of his shuffling around on the other end of the phone.

"Uh…that's why I called. You're still in L.A right?" His voice sounded hopeful, peaking Trish's interest.

"Yeah, I'm here till Thursday. Why's that?" Trish carefully folded one leg beneath her, as someone took a curling iron to the back of her hair.

"We're flying in tomorrow for RAW." Randy's response caused Trish to sit up straighter in her chair, causing the hairdresser to drop the curling iron to the floor.

"Seriously?" Trish squeaked at an embarrassingly high decibel. Feeling the colour flush to her cheeks, Trish could hear Randy chuckling on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. Where are you staying?" Randy's voice sounded hopeful. He was more than excited at the prospect of meeting up with his wife after five weeks apart.

"The Hilton, in San Gabriel." Trish noted, checking with Phoebe who nodded from the side as she flicked through Trish schedule. Having worked with Trish for the past five months, Phoebe now knew instinctively that when it came Randy, Trish would literally drop everything to be with him. Furrowing her brow, she began the arduous task or re-organising her appointments for the rest of the week.

"Alright, well I'm flying into LA X tomorrow at 8am. Meet you there?" Randy's voice sent another round of shivers down Trish's spine as she pictured seeing Randy.

"Yeah, sure thing. Okay baby, I'm going to have to love and leave you. I think my photographer is about to burst an artery. I'll call you later though." Trish's voice hinted at her disappointment. From across the studio, Martin was throwing a huge hissy fit, screaming and shouting at random people as he threw a divaesque tantrum.

"Okay baby. Have a good shoot. I want to see those pictures." Randy growled down the phone, causing Trish to bite her bottom lip.

"I'll give you a personal showing of the actual underwear. I love you baby." Trish hated to end the conversation, but Martin had progressed to throwing things around now.

"I love you too. Miss you baby girl." Trish sighed at Randy's last words as the line went dead. It wasn't the easiest thing to conduct a long distant relationship. Truthfully, Trish felt a little guilty at building her career. If she didn't have her own schedule to adhere to, it was much easier to organise time to be with Randy. But she doubted she would be any kind of company if she didn't have something to keep her occupied.

Randy loved Trish's independence and her drive. Who would she be if she didn't have a career? Sighing animatedly, Trish steeled herself for the next round of pictures. This shoot was most likely to last well on into the evening, and god only knew what kind of mood she would be in by the end.

Hopping off the seat, Trish marched back across the studio, shedding her robe a long the way. Stepping onto the bed, Trish dropped to her knees, the sating sheets pooling all around her as she did so, prreparing to get herself back into position so they could resume work. Noting Martin was still thrashing around in the corner uncontrollably, with people trying to calm him down out of the self imposed rage he was seemingly locked in.

Furrowing her brow, Trish rested both hands onto her hips as she bellowed. "Excuse me! We have a shoot to get done today if you don't mind!"

Gauging Martin's reaction, she was expecting an earful of abuse, not to mention the apology she knew he would expect from her, being the 'artiste' that he was. Grunting in frustration, Trish carried on, cutting Martin off before he could one syllable out.

"Hold it! Listen bitch, there is only one diva in this room, and it sure as hell ain't you! Now either you shut your fuckin' mouth and start taking the damn pictures, or I kick your ass out of the studio and get someone else to do the job instead. You're replaceable. I'm Trish fuckin' Stratus. Now quit your bitchin' and move it!"

The room was shocked into stunned silence. Never, in Martin DeCartier's illustrious photography career had anyone ever spoken to him in such a manner. His minions fully expected him to explode in Pompeii promportions and storm out of the studio, refusing to work with Trish ever again. And surprisingly enough, he simply reached down for the camera and quielty ordered for shooting to begin again.

Trish rested herself down onto her arms, making sure her backside stuck out well and truly into the air, giving the best bedroom eyes she was capable of as she stared at the camera, trying to ignore the man behind it as the shutter went off in rapid flickers. Glad that the situation had calmed down, Trish knew she had meant every word she had said.

She was Trish Stratus, and she would be dammed if someone else called the shots on her photo shoot.


	2. Tantrums and Terminals

_**Authors Note**_: **Update time. In answer to a few questions, there's going to be a little less drama between Trish and Randy this time. I promise to be a little easier on them in this story...but not too much. Doesn't conflict make the story more interesting..? **

**I've had a couple of PMs from you guys (which, by the way thank you, it was very cool to get them) about my future on FanFiction. I totally plan to keep on writing, and in the wrestling catagory to boot! I've inspiration for a whole bunch of stories which I will work on involving other wrestlers, as well as stories in other catagories. **

**I think though, after this story, I will take a break on Randy/Trish for a while, as I don't want to burn myself out writing their relationship. As it was my first Randy/Trish pairing, I had this whole vision of where I wanted the relationship to go, and I couldn't just leave it where it was in the previous two stories, which is why I imagined the entire 'triology' for lack of a better term. So, I will continue writing, and more wrestling stories, I'm just taking a little sabatical from Randy/Trish stories, but this isn't my last !**

**I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, please read and review. And as ever, I disclaim :)**

"Stupid…muthafuckin' cheep ass flight."

Randy's growling voice was distinctive, not only because of the expletives it had been laced with, but also due to the tantalisingly low tone it held, a pitch exclusive to the young 'Legend Killer'. Trudging down the connecting corridor of the airport, lost in a sea of people, his limp was more than noticeable as he made his way into the airport itself, a look of exhaustion plastered across his chiselled features. With one hand placed firmly on the strap of his duffle bag resting on his shoulder, the other hand causally massaged the lower regions of his back, which were unbelievably tight, causing him more irritation than he would admit.

Being over 6 foot four, with a large frame, sitting in anything other than first class accommodation on a flight left Randy with gnawing cramps in his lower back, because of the way he was forced to contort his body.

And as ever, he had decided 'maybe this time would be different' as he selected economy class for the flight, along with Candice Michelle and John Cena. Most of the trip had involved Randy moving his legs in awkward positions to allow the over-sexed couple past him from their bank of seats so they could get to the bathroom on the plane and proceed to fuck each other senseless. On more than one occasion, Randy had smiled apologetically at the air steward, ineloquently forming him his friends had _'the shits' _and would spend most of the flight dashing to the bathroom.

Three trips later and he gave up lying.

The worst part of the whole trip was that the position he had been sat in had caused his lower spine to contract awkwardly, leaving Randy with an irritating cramp which was refusing to work itself out as he walked into the terminal. Hunched forward, randy couldn't see himself as the being the gorgeous 'lady killer' he was considered to be. If anything, he resembled something closer to a bad imitation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

And behind the sea of people, Candice and John were following in Randy's footsteps, albeit at a much slower pace due to their stops to grope one another along the way.

Finally stepping out of the feeder tunnel, Randy's eyes adjusted to the raised lighting level in the airport. Groaning with effort, he extended to his full height, sending throbbing waves up and down his spine. Inhaling into the put of his chest, he was taken aback by the huge glass windows which filtered in bright rays of morning sunshine, filling the space with a light, fresh feeling. Just what anyone could wish for after an uncomfortable, cramped flight. Narrowing his crystal blue eyes slightly, Randy's gaze swept over the airport arrival area, searching for a sign of his Canadian wife.

Almost giving up hope, Randy was Forced to perform a double take, as both crystal blue eyes widened considerably as they registered where Trish standing. Randy had nothing but respect for the way Trish presented herself. She knew how to be sexy without slutty, and the clothes she wore accentuated her beautiful figure perfectly. However, Orton didn't know what to make of her current 'ensemble'. Far from her usual 'sassy' demeanour, Trish was dressed in out-and-out diva style.

Trish's ample chest was displayed proudly in a crisp white shirt, buttoned down to just below her breasts, exposing a tantalising hint of her beautiful cleavage and the lacy black bra holding it in check. The shirt was covered with a black sweater, with a deliberate 'V' at the front, giving more attention to her exposed chest. Trish's lower half was clad in the tightest, white hot pants that Randy had ever seen, matched with the knee-high white go-go boots covering her legs. The huge faux-fur coat Trish had encasing her tiny form gave her the impression of some kind of 'Pimp', with the large dark sunglasses covering her eyes completing the look.

Her hair hung around her face in large waves of loose golden curls, which tossed from side to side as the Canadian barked animatedly into her cell phone. Everywhere in Trish general vicinity, her 'people' skittered around, as if fawning over the woman. Randy raised an eyebrow at the sight. He knew that Trish tended to travel with a team now as she had so much to do during a day, but he hadn't expected to be greeted with Trish holding court in the middle of an airport.

Obviously frustrated at whomever she was talking to, Randy watched as Trish snapped her cell phone shut, handing it to a woman that Randy recognised to be his wife's personal assistant, Phoebe. At the same moment, Trish seemed to notice Randy as she stopped suddenly, as if shocked into silence. All at once, the grin spread across her face as she removed her sunglasses, exposing the soulful chocolate brown eyes to which Randy was so in love with.

Giggling, Trish sped forward, the heels of her boots clattering across the polished marble as she tore towards Randy. Unable to suppress his own smile, Randy shrugged off his duffle bag, extending his arms into an open invitation, to which Trish accepted whole heartedly. In one swift movement, she launched her self into the air, flinging herself into Randy's open arms. Pulling his wife into a tight embrace, Randy growled slightly as he felt her legs wrap easily around his waist whilst Trish lips attacked his own.

In a ferocious battle of burning kisses and dancing tongues, each Orton lost themselves in the taste of the other, as Randy's hands slid down to cup Trish pert bottom, as her own hands clawed their way through his hair and down his back, her nails grazing his skin as they did so, leaving tiny red marks dancing across the flesh.

Feeling light headed at the lack of oxygen, Randy pulled his lips back slightly, as he looked down into Trish's flushed face.

"Missed me?" The grin which broke across his face was reminiscent of the 'Legend Killer' character which Randy was famous for. There was a time when Trish found such a look the most nauseating thing on the planet. Now, however, it made her want to throw him on the floor and ride him with abandon, regardless of where they were or how many people were present around them.

Settling for stealing kisses from his pouting limps, Trish smiled warmly as she replied, "Really, really badly."

Making a sympathetic if slightly playful 'aww' sound, Randy rubbed his nose against Trish's in a tender 'Eskimo kiss'. Giggling in response, Trish relaxed the grip of her legs on her husband waist, as he gently dropped her to her feet. Falling into step beside Randy, Trish's hand automatically found his as their fingers mixed with each others, making their way through the airport towards the exit.

Randy had mentioned about his bags, but her soft assurance that one of her 'people' would deal with it was enough to silence Randy. What grabbed his attention more than anything, were the photographers in the airport, all snapping pictures of what he guessed was his wife as she replaced her sunglasses onto her face. Sighing in her obvious disgust, Trish raised her hand in front of her face, as if shielding it from the prying views of the camera lenses. Her pace quickened considerably, forcing Randy to increase his own pace to keep up with her.

Breaking into a near run, Trish barrelled through the entrance doors to the outside, the photographers in hot pursuit. Perplexed, Randy could only be dragged along as Trish's team brought up the rear, trying to protect her from the zealous paparazzi, flashing the shutters of the cameras ferociously.

Exiting the airport, Randy eye's bulged as he was confronted with a state of the art Hummer Limousine. It was a deep shade or dark red, contrasting sharply with the deep blue sky resting all around it. The door of the vehicle rested open, held by the suitably attired driver. Realising that the limo was waiting for Trish, Randy found himself being ushered into the seat after Trish who had already clambered into the vehicle. No sooner had he hauled himself into the backseat than was the door shut firmly, protecting them with tinted glass from the photographers crowding on the side of the vehicle.

Exhaling in disbelief, Randy felt as though that had been some kind of set up. He knew what it was like to be chased by fans wielding camera, but he had never in his life experienced that kind of attention. And clearly, the fuss was not over him - rather exquisite wife, who was currently grumbling expletives as she tore her sunglasses free of her head, slinging them down the length of the vehicle.

Watching the path of the eye-wear, Randy's breath caught in his throat as he finally took in the sight of the interior of the vehicle. The seats were made of white leather, completed with a darker grey piping, that stretched the length of one side of the car. At the opposite end rested a state of the art sound system, currently playing Janet Jackson's newest album. The floor was made of polished wood, given an enticing pink glow from the lighting glowing out from beneath the seats. The roof also gave off a source of light as the roof had been covered in hundreds of minute fairy lights, twinkling in ever changing patterns ranging from baby pink to brooding red. To top off the look and feel of the interior, on Trish's near left rested a bottle immensely expensive champagne and two glasses.

Forcing himself to shut his gaping mouth, he stared in bewilderment at Trish, who was still ranting about the photographers.

"Fucking rude, intrusive bastards! Do they have no sense of a person's privacy? I swear they must have me 'LoJacked' or something. Ever-fucking-where I got, they are there with those snapping cameras and stupid flashes! It is really starting to get on my last nerve…what on earth are you staring at?" Trish eyed Randy with knitted eyebrows as she couldn't quite see what he was so engrossed with.

With a grunted response, Randy motioned around him with his hands. Realisation flushed into Trish eyes as she realised what he meant.

"The hummer?" she grinned, "like it? It's courtesy of the company that market my designs. They gave it to me a few weeks ago. My own personal transport, complete with driver and sound system. Hot isn't it?"

"It's amazing," Randy added, feeling in awe of the expensive vehicle, "what was all that bout back there? All those photographers? I've never seen so many paparazzi in my life."

Sighing dejectedly, Trish rested back against the seat. "I know, it's gotten really bad recently. Everywhere I go they are just there. Airports, hotels, studios…even freakin' grocery stores. They are just there all the time. I know its publicity or whatever, but I am gonna end up 'Chick Kick-ing' one of their heads off."

Sensing his wife's frustration, Randy reached his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body against his. "Relax baby girl," he purred into her ear, "they don't matter now. We can fly home and just lock ourselves away fro a few days."

Trish moaned as she arched into Randy's touch. "I wish. I hate going so long without seeing you."

"So come home with me," Randy whispered, nipping at her earlobe, "we can just lock the doors and stay in bed. C'mon Trisha, come home with me." Giggling at the thought, Trish forced herself to sit up to look at Randy fully.

"C'mon baby, don't tease me," she pouted, "that sounds so awesome, but I can't take time off and neither can you." Trish stopped, eyeing Randy suspiciously as he tried to avoid her eye contact. Whether he was lying by omission or otherwise, Randy Orton could not hide it. He looked like a ten year old school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Raising an eyebrow, Trish shot out in a controlled voice - "What?"

"Nothing." Randy replied, smiling innocently at Trish, who only folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, okay. Something. But nothing you need to worry about."

"Don't think I won't beat it out of you Orton." Trish grinned, her eyes glinting with unspoken intent, "and not in the good way."

Chuckling, Randy ended with a sigh as he realised he had to come clean with Trish sooner or later. "I've got the next…two weeks off." So he was being economical with the truth, he wasn't exactly lying in saying he wasn't going to working.

Unfortunately for Randy, Trish wasn't buying a word of it. "Why are you off for two weeks?" Her look held reservation, as she wasn't sure if an honest answer was what she wanted from her husband.

"Don't flip out Trish, but -…" Randy stopped mid sentence as Trish cut him off, her voice rising in pitch as she became flustered.

"You can't begin with 'don't flip out' Trish, because that clearly means I have reason to flip out. I suggest you tell me what is going right now." Giving the best authorities look she was capable of, Trish began to stare down Randy.

"After last night's event…I kind of had a disagreement with Hunter… A physical disagreement which ended up with him having a few stitches above his eye…" Randy trailed off, feeling a wave of ice hit his stomach as he registered Trish's cold expression.

Gravely, she finished the sentence for Randy. "…and you got yourself suspended for fourteen days." Sighing is disappointment, Trish let her eyes roll back into her head, as her head dropped into her hands, "baby what were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all? Picking a fight is one thing, but with the boss' son-in-law? You know how much trouble that will land you in. Fuck Randy!"

Trish threw her hands up in resignation, shifting slightly on her seat so her back presented itself to him slightly. Her voice was soft, making it all that much worse for Randy. "Why? What did it get you Randy? You're on the verge of becoming a full time main-eventer, and you go and pull bullshit like this. I thought you'd grown out of stuff like this two years ago."

Feeling the need to be diplomatic leave him, Randy couldn't sit in silence and be lectured by his wife "He was being a total dick. And he hit me first."

Trish turned back to face Randy, not showing the slightest trace of sympathy. "Do you think Vince gives a shit? And so what if he hit you, you shouldn't have hit him back. It's unprofessional. You should have just been the bigger man and walked away."

"Fuck off Trish," Randy exclaimed, incredulously eyeballing Trish at the idea he could have just walked away, "just turn my back and look like a total pussy in front of the boys? You know it doesn't work like that. I don't care who his father-in-law is, no-one disrespects me like that."

Trish laughed bitterly at her husband words. If there was one thing she would never understand, it was the male preoccupation with status and position. "Don't start with that egotistical testosterone shit. You should have just walked away. No-one would have thought any less of you, especially as it was him!"

"I would have become a joke Trisha," Randy countered, his voice low and laced with bottled up anger as he spoke back to his wife. He didn't want to engage in a confrontation with his wife, but he had a low anger tolerance and Trish was pushing all the right (or perhaps wrong) buttons, "I've worked really hard to build my reputation with the boys backstage. And I feel like I've gotten it now -…"

Again Trish jumped in on Randy's sentence - "By proving you're a man, who was above childish squabbles! You're not that punk-ass kid who pisses everyone off. But incidents like this just pushes you back down again. You're your own worst enemy Randy."

"I didn't come here for a lecture," Randy spat, clenching both fists at his sides. "I thought at the very least you'd understand why I did what I did, god forbid you actually support me." Wasn't that how a marriage was supposed to work?

"Oh of course I support you," Trish sighed, once again throwing her arms into the air, feeling more than a little offended at the insinuation that she wasn't as supportive of Randy as she should be, "and I am always on your side. But that doesn't mean I have to agree with what you do. Nor does it mean that I won't kick your ass for being stupid."

"Good," Randy forced a smile through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to allow his anger to ebb away so he could think rationally. However, its grip seemed far too strong for Randy to just 'let' the emotion go, "so you can come with me tomorrow night when I've got my disciplinary with Vince tomorrow."

"Fine," Trish breathed sinking back into the leather, letting her arms fall loosely across her lap. She had really thought Randy was past moments like this, acting out in such manners. She had even thought that he had grown into a man. And yet, he had somehow managed to go right back to where he started.

"I just need some time off to cool down baby," Randy assured, softening his tone as much as possible, "just a couple of days at home with you and I'll be good to go. Even if it means apologising to Hunter."

"I already said I couldn't fly home with you Randy." Trish replied, rolling her neck so her face turned to look at her husband. His pouting lips and raised eyebrows told Trish without words that he wasn't happy with what she said.

"Why not? Why can't you come home with me? I need you." Randy felt like he was whining, but he wanted Trish to come home with him, even if it was him being a little selfish.

"Think this through Randall. I've already pushed my schedule back to be with you until Thursday. I couldn't take any time off even if I hadn't pushed my stuff back, there's just too much to do. I'm sorry babe." Trish reached for Randy's hand, but he recoiled, huffing as he stamped his foot.

"Sorry to inconvenience your schedule. I'll remember to book you in advance next time." Now Randy knew he was being hurtful, but he didn't care. He wanted to have his wife there for him, not designing underwear.

"That is not fair. You know I'd come home with you if I could, but it doesn't work like that in the real world. I'm trying to build a career for myself. Sometimes I just have to do my job, just like you have to do yours," Trish's eyes pleaded for understanding from Randy, but his huffing told her he wasn't interested, "well if it bothers you that much, why don't you travel with me?"

"Fine, maybe I will." Randy retorted as nonchalantly as possible. Inside, he positively aglow with the idea of spending time with his wife even if she was working. However, he was too busy being stubborn and refused to let Trish know it. And with both folding their arms, with their backs turned slightly to each other, the rest of the journey to the hotel was driven in silence.


	3. Fourteen Days

**_Authors Note: _New Chapter :) Yay for updates. Okay, so maybe I am already taking things a little hard with Randy and Trish. I'm just plain mean like that. And there's plenty of more to come. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I disclaim!! Please leave a review!!**

Nobody had said this would be easy. Far from it, as in most cases everyone had told Trish her decision to leave the company that had been her home for the past seven years was a mistake. WWE was like a delicious poison, one that once it got inside your blood was impossible to get out. It was as addictive as any drug could be, and many people spent their lifetimes trying to get in on the action, to allow themselves the addiction that was this sports entertainment empire.

And she had been the one to give it up.

At what was the height of her popularity, Trish had turned her back on her seven year run. She had walked out of those doors with her head held high, knowing she had accomplished everything a person could in that company and more.

_Okay, so maybe I didn't walk as so much as I was stretchered out of the building, but that's not the point. It was my decision to leave. I wanted a life for myself, and now I have it._

_So why do I feel so awful at being back here?_

It was true to say that ever since her departure, Trish had avoided the company like the plague. Events, promotions, superstar get togethers - everything. She wanted to have a clean break from the business. The only connection she had left was her husband, Randy, but even then she kept her exposure to the wrestling world to a minimum.

But just setting foot inside the arena had called up old feeling and emotions for Trish. She could hear the roar of the crowd, the pumping adrenaline, the thrill of victory and heartbreak of failure. There was no feeling like it, and one she had honestly thought she had gotten over. But it seemed not. Just being here made Trish crave for the ring, to be able to mix it up with someone and put on an amazing show, to do what she was better than anyone else at doing. Some part of her knew that she would feel this way if she dared set foot in arena ever again. And so why she had decided to accompany Randy to this arena was a mystery to her.

The couple had arrived at the arena in the later afternoon. Passing numerous stage hands, the production trucks were busily setting up as the Titan Tron was hastily being erected inside the arena. Appearing from Trish's hummer, the couple strode hand in hand into the arena. As was her now usual custom, Trish's eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses as Randy led the way forward. Dressed smartly in pinstripe dress pants and a baby shirt, he looked every inch the professional that he knew he was. In a meeting with your boss to discuss your suspension, Randy decided to at least look decent as a way to appease the wrath of McMahon.

The pair received many curious glances as they walked through the concrete hallways, some at recognising Trish, others shocked to see Randy at the arena. Word had spread about Orton's altercation with bosses son-in-law, and many now viewed Randy as a potential 'former WWE superstar' candidate. It was true, that no matter who you are, if you messed with the McMahon family in any way, you automatically earned yourself you one way ticket out of the company.

Most already knew Randy had been suspended, and the general agreement in the locker room was that it would only be a matter of time before Randy was given his marching orders. Orton knew this, and felt sick to his stomach. If nothing else, he really didn't want to prove his detractors right, that he would only ever be some punk-ass kid who got where he was in the business by trading on his family name. It was total bullshit, but no-one outside his close circle of friends seemed to see it.

Orton had given more than a hundred percent since the day he had set foot through those doors. But his reputation had been the one thing he hadn't been able to shake. And now it seemed that those negative predictions were about to come true. It was Randy's time to face the music, and accept the consequences that came with it.

Stopping just short of the door to Mr. McMahon's office, Randy stopped, his chest rising harshly as he took a deep inhalation of breath. Rolling his head to the side, he looked down into the beautiful brown eyes of his wife, who had removed her sunglasses as she smiled warmly. The gentle squeeze of her hand was enough to reassure himself, as his pounding heart struggled to find a more regular rhythm. Landing a gentle kiss on her forehead, Randy let go of her hand, as he knocked against the door with his knuckles.

Mr. McMahon's voice rumbled from somewhere inside, inviting Randy to enter. Stepping aside, Trish leant herself up against an empty box used for holding electric wires, winking at her husband. With one final glance at her, Orton pushed the door to Mr. McMahon's office open, stepping inside to face his fate.

Allowing the door to close with a faint click behind him, Randy's eyes crystal blue eyes swept across the room. As was custom for such meetings, Vince was sat behind a large oak desk, several documents and papers spread out before him. Wresting on the bridge of his nose were thin metallic glasses that he used for reading. His expression became less friendly as he removed the reading aids, folding the arms tightly against the lenses before dropping the spectacles into his shirt pocket.

With a wave of his hand, the Chairman of the board offered Randy a seat, which he accepted. Dropping into the plush leather chair, Randy relaxed back into the seat. Knowing his own physical appearance well enough, Orton tried his best to appear as non-threatening as possible. The last thing he needed was for this meeting to escalate into a confrontation with the most powerful man in Sports Entertainment.

Clearing his throat, Vince relaxed back into his own chair, folding his hands on the desk before him. "You look well Randy."

"I'm doing good." Came the reply. Randy's eyes watched Vince's face with a sense of foreboding interest. Vince had his game face on, making his emotions and intentions next to impossible to read.

"I don't think I need to tell you why you were called here today." The Chairman's steely grey eyes seemed to burn a hole into Randy's face. The broken phrase of 'if looks could kill' conjured up gruesome pictures in 'The Legend Killers' mind, ones which he hastily pushed away.

"No sir." Keeping his tone as monotonous as possible, Randy could feel his heart increase its rate in his chest. Half of him wondered if you actually see the organ pulsing below his shirt, but knew that was ridiculous.

"Would you like to explain what happened?" It was an interesting question. On the one hand, Randy could tell Vince what an asshole he had for a son-in-law. He could tell him why he had punched Hunter back, after HHH had struck the first blow. He could tell Vince the reason why he entered into the fight - the fact that Hunter had been vocally disrespecting his wife in front of the boys backstage.

But he chose otherwise. "I punched Hunter in the face."

"I'm well aware of what you did, Randall," Vince observed, his eyebrow arching slightly, "my inquiry was as to why you punched him in the face."

Randy's faced remained as impassive as possible as he answered. "Doesn't matter."

"I'm afraid it does to me Randy," sighing, Vince pinched at the bridge of his nose as his eyes screwed shut. Slowly they opened, signalling Vince's intention to continue, "I would like to say this is out of character for you. Yet I'm told you were seen in a potentially violent situation with Booker last week. And at SummerSlam, I was informed of the 'heated' exchange between you and CM Punk. I think a pattern is developing here son. A self-destructive pattern, that worries me."

"Look Vince, if you're expecting me to apologise for -" Randy began to speak, more than prepared to tell Mr. McMahon to go to hell. It was one thing to be reprimanded for inappropriate behaviour, but something else to be scolded as though you were a misbehaving eight year old child. However, Vince cut in on Randy's sentence.

"…I'm not finished Randall. Your actions worry me. Aside from your more violent outbursts recently, your general demeanour has changed. You're attire has been sloppy at public events, you've shown up later to several broadcasts and Pay-Per-Views. And your in ring performance has been somewhat…lack lustre as of late? We were forced to make you drop the belt because you could no longer convincingly defend it in our ring. It's like you've gone back to being the rookie you are when you came to be five years ago. This just isn't like you at all son."

Randy found the words he wanted to say escape him. Vince was right. It seemed his professional life - every single aspect of it was crumbling around him. Sure, everything that Vince said was true, but he didn't know the entire story. He didn't know the abuse and silent treatment he received from the veterans backstage. He didn't know what it was like to be despised and hated by other talent because he had the push that they felt they deserved. And he had no idea what it was like travelling alone, from city to city, rooming with no-one as nobody really wanted to hang with him because of his supposed 'attitude problem'.

So he had been acting out. Could anyone really blame him? "It seems to me," Vince pointed out, "that there is a direct correlation. From the moment your wife left our company, you seemed to descend on this downward spiral you've been on ever since. Have you really lost your focus without Trish at your side?"

"Leave her out of this," Randy snarled, clenching the arms of the chair tightly between his fists as his eyes narrowed. Nobody else in the world had less right to discuss his wife than the man sat across from him.

"Randall, I know my past dealings with Trish weren't exactly noble. But I never once said I didn't respect the hell out of her for what she had achieved. I pushed her to be greater, and she delivered," Vince was telling the truth. Many would debate his methods, but he had helped put Trish on the path for mega-stardom. "But where she succeeded, you have yet to deliver. It seems you've gone backwards, and its not a good way to go in this business. Your status as a contender for the Championship is gone, and many in this company are starting to doubt your spot as a top draw. I cannot have dead weight on board my ship Randall, or it will sink everyone."

This was it. This was the part where Vince would tell Randy that he was released from his contract, that he had wasted the chances he had be given to prove himself as an asset to the company. Despite his defiance, Randy felt his head dip as he prepared for the worst.

"However, I do belief my faith in you wasn't misplaced. I think it's a case of you loosing your direction. So, you've been given a 14 day suspension. I will uphold that. You will stay off WWE programming for the next two weeks," Vince tone softened as he regarded Randy, "two weeks Randy. That's the amount of time I'm giving you to sort your shit out. You do what you feel you need to do to get your head back in the game. In two weeks time, I want you back in my office . If you don't feel you're ready, or I don't think there's been a noticeable change, then we will have to consider other avenues to take. Two weeks Randall. Don't disappoint me son."

Randy looked up, taking in the Chairman's gaze. It seemed as though he were being given a second chance as it were, to prove to Vince and everyone else he deserved his spot on the roster. Raising from his seat, Randy nodded at Vince.

Turning to leave the office, McMahon's voice rang out again. "Tell Trish I said hello." Randy wasn't sure how to take the grin that spread across the Chairman's lips, but decided to leave it as it was. Gripping the handle of the door, Randy stepped out of the office, into the waiting arms of his wife.

Pulling him into a tight embrace, Trish planted a rainfall of kisses over Randy's neck as he tightened his grip around her waist. Leaning back slightly, Randy rested his head against Trish's forehead, his voice coming out strained and tired.

"This is fucked up." Trish saw the bitter sadness resting deep in Randy's eyes. Taking his had in hers, Trish gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll figure it out. Let's just get out of here okay?" Randy nodded at Trish's words, slinging his arm around her shoulder. Making their exit out of the arena, Randy considered Vince's words. He had two weeks to work things through. Could he resolve everything that had been going on in that amount of time. Could he really prove his place and worth to this organisation? Or could this be the beginning of the end of Randy's career? Could everything he had worked for, for so long be slipping through his fingers, with no way to stop it? Only in fourteen days would he be able to tell.

Plagued by unsettling thoughts, Randy realised now more than ever, he needed Trish's guidance. Unfortunately for Orton, he wasn't the only with designs for the future of Mrs. Orton.


	4. Between Love and Hate

**_Author's Note : _Update. This one's kind of Randy oriented, I hope you enjoy. **

**Now that you mention it Kim, yes Randy is looking a little less defined than normal. Not that I think anyone would care! As ever, I disclaim, reviews are welcome and appreciated!**

Chapter 4 _Between Love and Hate_

"Come on Trish, let's see something sexy. Give me animal…give me primal. You're an Amazon queen Trish. Let's see those carnal urges. That's it…that's it baby girl. You grind that sweet ass!"

_Who's sweet ass does he think he's talking about? I'll break his fuckin' nose he talks about her like that again. And that's my 'baby girl' he's getting a woody over. Muthafucker. Just give me five minutes alone with him and I swear…_

In the silhouetted darkness which fell in shadows, Randy Orton sat uncomfortably in an unstable directors chair, seething over the action taking place before him.

Bathed in light, Trish Orton seductively spread herself across the antique bed she was prostrated on, her frosted pink lips opened to a silent, orgasmic moan, as Justin Timberlake's 'SexyBack' ripped from the speakers sat just out of the pool of light.

Dressed in the tightest, most revealing leopard print underwear Randy thought he had ever seen in his life, he had a difficult time sitting at all considering the hardness in the front of his pants, not to mention the thigh high black vinyl boots Trish was sporting, which happened to be some of the most erotic pieces of footwear he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Her legs bent, parted fully at the knees, Trish had arched her back as she leant backwards, her arms rested in the same arched position, letting the waves of her blonde hair pool onto the white-tiger print bead spread she was on. Curtains of similar animal print hung from the ceiling, as the barely clothed photographer darted around, snapping at Trish from different angles. Randy found it strange that the photographer was topless, wearing the lowest slung jeans he had personally ever seen. If gravity took over any further, and he would have a full view of pretty much _everything_ he had to offer.

And to top it all off, Randy secretly hated the way Trish would move her body at the direction of another man. He knew he was being stupid and childish and jealous for no reason. This was a photo shoot, and of course Trish had to take direction, and bend herself into a myriad of sexually obvious positions. The logical Randy knew all of this, but the pent up frustration and egotistical Randy wanted to scream and shout for Trish to stop and put her clothes on, so he could take her home and bend her into even better positions.

What was wrong with him? He had seen Trish in next to nothing a hundred times when she had still worked for the WWE. He'd seen her in bra and panties, lingerie, wet t-shirt contests - every kind of male testosterone driven fantasy you could imagine, and he had been fine with it. No matter who told Trish to strip and be sexy, no matter how many men cheered and ogled every inch of her beautiful body, no matter how many boys and men went home after watching Trish and beat one off thinking about his girl, Randy would always be the guys she came home to. He knew Trish had only ever had eyes for him. Of course she was sexy and flirtatious, bet Trish knew where the line was, and she always respected it.

So why was Randy having such a problem with today? Of course he knew the reason why. He was in an intensely bad mood. He had been since two days ago when he had begun his fourteen day suspension. Randy had enjoyed forty-eight hours with his wife, a blissful two day in which they had banged each other senseless, and spent time just catching up and being a couple. But Trish wasn't suspended, and still had to go to work. And so Randy had spent all morning watching Trish strip into a variety of different sets of underwear in order to promote her new line. Of course, he had also spent the morning watching the photographer make thinly veiled vulgar comments to his wife, not to mention the necessary men in the room elbowing each other whispering repulsive fantasies to one another involving Trish.

And worst of all, Orton knew it was misplaced anger. What he was really angry at, was himself, being suspended from the job he loved for a whole fourteen days for being an ass. Okay, so maybe some would argue that Hunter deserved the right hook to his face, but hell Randy should have known better than that. People said corrosive things about Trish all the time. They knew it was an easy way to get him to react, to lash out in violence. Despite all the anger management classes he had taken, all the methods he knew to control and suppress his awful temper, the one thing that made him flair up like nothing else, was his wife.

Randy sometimes thought if he didn't love her so much, it would be easier. Didn't they always say there was a fine line between love and hate? Maybe that's what it was. He loved Trish with all his heart, but nothing brought hate out of him better than when someone bad mouthed her. But they were stronger than that. They had lasted through worse tribulations than Randy taking issue with people and their talk.

More than that, Trish saw something in Randy that no-one else did. He knew she saw him as a good man, who could sometimes get a little misguided, but a good guy none the less. Randy wanted nothing more than to prove her right, and he really believed that he had proved it. After he had settled himself into a relationship with Trish, his career had climbed to dizzying heights. All those years he had spent sleeping around and partying it up had actually hurt him more than it had helped.

Being with Trish gave him a sense of clarity, a focus and a purpose. With her at his side he had achieved his dreams. Randy had become World Heavyweight Champion, he had become a Tag Team Champion and had earned the respect of the fans.

So where had it all gone wrong?

Somewhere along the line, Randy knew something had happened to put him on this path to failure. He knew it wasn't Trish leaving the WWE. No matter where she was in the world, Randy knew her heart was with him every step of the way. Randy was never one for making excuses, but part of him felt that the reason he was suffering now was his problems with the 'veteran's of the company. He was touted as being a third generation superstar, a fact which the older more experienced boys seemed to hold it against him. Indeed, contrary to popular belief, Randy Orton had had a much harder time getting into the business than most.

Even if he had punched Hunter in the face, Randy had come a long way from the punk kid he used to be. He felt the way he had held himself through the endless hardships and cold response from the boys backstage was a credit to the man he was. Of course, nobody saw this side of Randy. WWE had the reputation of 'grin and bare it'. And even if they did, it wasn't as though they were about to praise Randy for a good job. It didn't work like that. You could work your damned hardest and it would go unsung, yet the second you did something that was frowned upon, you were the scapegoat for everyone and their mother.

It just seemed Randy was doomed to be the punching bag for the company for a while yet, a fact which festered inside, giving him a bitter resentment of a lot of things. Maybe that's why people shunned him backstage, because he was cold and distant to everyone who tried to be friendly.

"_We distance ourselves from everyone else, so we don't have to feel. For me, I just don't care about what I feel…"_

Randy's smile was full of regret as the vague memory of his words came back to him in the here and now. And maybe that wasn't so wrong. Maybe the best way was not feel, at least that way he wouldn't flare up like he did and become a slave to his emotions.

Of course, the price would be his love for Trish, which was something Randy would cling to with his last breath. Exhaling deeply, randy figured he needed someway to get a handle on his emotions. It wouldn't be so hard, he just need a find a way which worked for him.

And now would be a very good time.

Hearing Trish's squeaked protestations, Randy glanced up just in time to see the photographer pounce on his wife. Spinning Trish around his arms so his back was to him, he gripped the back of her bra strap, ripping it open and wrenching the lacy material off her arms and slinging it to the floor beside the bed. Trish's hands immediately shot up, covering her breasts before anyone could any kind of view of her 'assets'. The photographer tried to prize her hands away, ranting something about exposing more flesh to give the audience a better insight into her soul.

Of course, he wasn't given much time to explain his reasoning as a rough arm grabbing him from behind hurled him away from Trish, sending him tumbling to the floor. Trish's bewildered eyes looked up into the furious face of her husband, who ripped his tee-shirt up over his head before gently pulling it down over Trish's body covering her naked torso. Cupping her face between his hands, Randy's eyes softened as he searched Trish's face for any sign of fear or hurt. Once certain there was none, his face creased into anger as he turned off the bed, stomping towards the photographer who was getting back to his feet.

"Security! Get in here! Who is this man?", Marcus, the photographer bellowed, "how dare you interrupt my shoot, and put your hands on me! Do you know who I am? Do you?"

Clearly, Randy didn't care as he gripped him around the throat, ramming him hard up against the steel support pillar behind him. Clenching his grip, Marcus' arms flailed wildly around as he struggled to be free of the titan-like grip.

"You keep your fuckin' hands off my wife," Orton's voice growled deeply, laced with a threatening undertone, "or I fuckin' swear to god she will be the last thing you touch as I will break every bone in your worthless fuckin' body."

"Who are you?" Marcus screamed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as much from his volcanic anger as the lack of oxygen, "I will do whatever I want. This is my studio. She is my model. These bitches do as I tell them or so help me I will make them do it. And I don't care if they are some 'roid head's slut or not."

As soon as he said the words, Marcus realised they were the wrong ones, not least because of the massive fist smashing into his jaw with unbridled force. The lithe photographer eyes went wide in shock, before he sank to the floor, released from Randy's massive grip. Streams of crimson blood erupted from his mouth as he gargled and coughed. Assistants and other production hands squealed in unison, huddling around their fallen employer, blocking him from view from the seething Orton.

Feeling a hand grip him on the forearm, Randy span around, his muscles tensing as he became ready to lash out again at whoever necessary wanted to challenge him. He stopped suddenly, as his cloudy crystal blue eyes recognised Trish through the haze of red he could only see. Glancing down into the pleading chocolate brown eyes of his wife, all at once Randy's shoulders sank. Not missing a beat, Trish gently took Randy's hand in her own, and the 'Legend Killer' simply allowed himself to be lead hurriedly off set.

Leading Randy into her trailer which stood near by outside of the ground level studio, Trish motioned for her team to leave them alone once they were inside. A whispered conversation to her agent meant that he would go and smooth things over with Marcus and his people for the time being, after which Trish locked the door so they couldn't be interrupted. Gently placing her hand against Randy's bare heaving chest, she pushed him down into the make up chair behind him. Dropping to her knees to the mini fridge, Trish found what she was looking for.

Take the tray of ice she wanted, she loosened a few of the crystal cubes, placing them into a thin cotton towel near by. Wrapping the corners together, she turned back to Randy, placing the flat of his hand against his thigh. Carefully, she placed the make-shift ice bag against his rapidly reddening knuckles, which she guessed was causing his discomfort. The flare in his nostrils told Trish he wasn't ready to calm down just yet. Deciding to deal with it the only way she knew how, she carefully sat herself down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling his heart pound against her chest.

Releasing the breath she had been holding, it was practically a sigh of relief as Trish felt Randy wrap his free arm around her waist, leaning his head against her chest. Slowly, Trish began tracing circled patterns over Randy's head, dropping the odd kiss here and there as she did so. Trish knew she should be chewing him out right about now for punching out the photographer, but that would have to wait. He was in too volatile a state to even think about lecturing.

"I'm sorry baby," he sighed, looking up into her soulful brown eyes, "but nobody ever touches you like that. I don't care if its for your business or not. It is not okay that he man handled you, so don't tell me I was wrong. Because I will smack out any fucker who puts his hands on you like that."

"Hey, I'm not going to tell you it was wrong," Trish offered a disarming smile, "I was going to say thank you for stepping in when you did. He just ripped my bra off and I had no clue what was going on. And I agree, it's not okay he grabbed me. But…"

Trish's voice trailed off, and Randy knew what was coming, so much so that he said it for her. "…I shouldn't have punched him." He knew it was right. Everything inside his head told him he should not have punched the guy, if nothing else it was the very reason he was suspended. But just the thought of Trish being man handled against her will, and he felt himself tensing, so much so he wanted to go back into the studio and punch him again.

"No, you shouldn't have," Trish agreed, using her fingers to massage the back of Randy's neck, trying to work out the tense muscles nestled there, "but I understand why you did. In some freaky way, it's flattering. On the other hand, kinda insulting. I coulda taken him."

Randy felt the laughter explode deep from his chest, as he pulled Trish's body tighter to his own. Trish rolled her hips, so now that she straddled Randy's waist, her arms remaining the loose loop around his neck. Leaning forward, her lips met Randy's own as they melted together in soft kiss. Sighing against Trish's mouth, Randy rested his forehead against hers.

"What's the matter with me Trish?" his voice sounded strained, as though the words caused him actual physical pain, "I just can't seem to shake this 'thing' off. Its like I've lost my focus…and I don't know why."

"I'll help you get it back Randy, I promise," Trish responded, kissing his lips gently, "we just need to take some time to figure things out. Tell you what, I'll cancel my schedule for the remainder of your suspension, and we'll work this out of you. Whatever it takes."

"What do you propose?" Randy's voice held just a hint of mischief, echoed by the glint in his eyes. Trish couldn't help herself but release a giggle as she rocked her hips back and forth, adding fuel to the fire of Randy's blood pumping around his body, centring in a rather delicious place.

"I can think of a few techniques that will take the fight right out you," Trish purred, her lips grazing Randy's ear with burning caresses, "but it will take long, concentrated hours of extensive practice, well into the early hours of the morning. You think you can take it?"

"Baby, you know I can…wait," Randy caught himself before he caught too lost in the mental imagery his wife was providing, " you can't. You've got work. It's not fair for me to take you away from your job just because-…"

Trish's lips caught Randy off guard, burning his mouth with the soft motions of her lips. "Yes I can. I'll just work from home or something. I don't care. You're more important. Let's just go home and forget everyone else. They don't matter."

Randy sighed whole heartedly as he rested against Trish's chest, feeling her arms wrap him in a tender embrace. It was still amazing to him, even after all this time of being together, that Trish just had this knack of settling his fears. Just her presence gave him back the clarity that he felt he had been lacking for so long. And what could be better than two weeks with his wife? If nothing else, he could enjoy her body to its fullest, and spend a contended break away in the arms of the perfect woman. But Randy knew more than that, if there was anyone else who could help him work through his shit, it was her.

He said it everyday as woke, the first words that came to his mind as the sun rose and he joined the waking world. By right now, they never seemed more fitting, even causing Trish to giggle softly.

"I'm so glad you married me."


	5. Lead The Way

**_A/N: _Update times ladies and gents, hope you enjoy this one! Thank you for all the kind reviews, I don't say it often enough but I am truly thankful. I love how you guys take the time to post what you make of the story, giving your opinions on what's happened/what's to come. You guys are amazing! As ever, I own nothing, but would appreciate reviews, they are the fuel to my creative fire!**

**I dedicate this chapter to my 'Number One Fan'. You know who you are ;) **

**Warning : This chapter contains sexual content. If you don't like it or aren't interested, skip it!**

**I disclaim!**

* * *

Trish scratched her head restlessly, digging the pencil she held to the area just above her ear on her scalp. Her lips pursed into a frustrated pout, her eyes narrowed into chocolate brown slits as she glared at the computer monitor before her. With her free hand, her fingers poked at the keys, rapidly typing messages before moving on. In reality, Trish was checking her e-mails for contacts from the company who were distributing her designs. As she suspected, her inbox was completely flooded with correspondence from everyone and their mother.

It seemed the director of 'Company Relations' had a very strong opinion on what had taken place between Randy and Marcus at Trish's last photo shoot. He told her how lucky she was that she still had a job with the company, and that they weren't going to launch a mammoth law suit against Randy for aggravated assault. She was dutifully informed that this was not the kind of image the company wished to project to the fashion community at large, and any other transgressions of any kind would result in her immediate termination in involvement with the company.

Never one to back down, Trish thrashed an equally venomous reply, happily reminding the 'Company Relations' Director that Marcus's behaviour towards her had been completely inappropriate, and she had been in contact with her own legal representation to consider appropriate action. In reality, Trish had done no such thing, but it didn't mean she couldn't put the fear of god into any jumped-up polyester blend wearing moron who thought he could push her around. She 'politely' suggested that they next time work with a photography company who didn't have the view point that it was okay to molest their models in broad daylight - especially if their husbands were present.

Sighing, Trish dropped the pencil down onto her desk, as she clicked onto the next correspondence. It turned out that the 'Marketing Manager' had also been in contact. Judging by the content of the e-mail, it seemed that she was having a breakdown, that Marcus had refused to send on the photos, and so they had no images to use in promotion. The woman was seemingly pleading with Trish to do something, so that they would have some kind of real of film in order to promote the new brand of perfume Trish was launching next week.

This presented several problems. To begin with, Trish had voluntarily cleared her schedule to be with Randy, which meant she wasn't available for any shoot. Although in hindsight it was reckless business move, Trish stood by her decision. The ring on her finger reminded her that sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the one you loved.

Which now meant Mrs. Orton was in a difficult position. Apart from the fact she wasn't available, there was no way that she would be able to book another photographer at this short notice. Not to mention the fact, that she most likely had a reputation of being a diva now, and that any person who didn't obey her would be met with her aggressive husband. Sighing again, Trish slammed down the lid of her laptop, pushing away from the edge of the desk with both hands. Her wheeled chair slid backwards, softly colliding with the bookshelf directly behind her.

_How am I going to get through this? _If she didn't get the photo shoot done, she could kiss her perfume career goodbye. Suddenly, Trish was very glad she had turned off her cell phone. She honestly didn't think she could cope with any more catastrophes this evening. Running her hands back through her hair, Trish craved sleep. Her mind was buzzing with so many problems, and no solutions, it was exhausting.

Lost in thoughts of how to rectify the situation, Trish was interrupted, by the sound of Randy's voice softly calling to her .

"Baby?" Glancing up from her desk, Trish turned her head to the doorway, where Randy was stood, a concerned expression on his face. Even in the waning light of the evening sun, his expression was plain for Trish to see.

Forcing a smile to her lips Trish extended her hand out towards her husband stood in the doorway. Randy responded, stepping into the study and walking over to Trish. Taking her hand in his, he gently pulled her to her feet, into his waiting arms. Resting her head against Randy's chest, Trish felt his hand glide through the soft locks of her blonde hair.

"Dinner's ready." Randy whispered into the crown of her head. Trish gripped his waist a little tighter, raising her head up upwards to look directly at him.

A mix of shock an amusement on her face, she looked into crystal blue eyes. "You made dinner?" Trish did her best to keep the surprised tone out of her voice, but it must have been evident as Randy grinned devilishly as a response.

"Come see." Relaxing his grip around her body, he took her hand in his, and led her out of the study and down the stairs of their home towards the kitchen. As she descended the stairs, Trish was confronted with the most delicious scent she had the pleasure of inhaling. Turning the corner into the kitchen, her breath was stolen away.

It was a simple set up, making it or the more heart melting to Trish. The table on the far side of the kitchen was covered with a simple red cloth spilling down over the sides of the antique oak table. In the centre, two lit candles were position on either side of a vase, holding a few large white daisies. With two plates on either side of the table, it all looked set to be an intimate, romantic meal between Trish and Randy. Finding her voice, Trish grinned at Randy.

"This is beautiful." Randy returned her smile, patting the flat of his hand on the round of her butt. Carefully, he steered her towards the table, pulling out the chair for her to sit down, easing it back in behind her. The tall frame of Randy vanished back into the kitchen, before returning to Trish's side with a large silver platter. A huge metallic dish covered the top, hiding whatever it was he had cooked from view. With a wink, Randy gripped the handle, removing the cover.

"Dinner is served." Trish turned from Randy's face to look at the silver platter. All at once, she exploded into hysterical laughter, seeing the pizza box laying there, with Randy laughing along with her.

"When did you order pizza?" Trish posed the question as Randy flipped open the cardboard box, allowing Trish to select two slices of the Hawaiian pizza, her favourite variety.

Taking the box with him, Randy pulled off three slices, dropping them onto his own plate, before uncorking the bottle of wine he had retrieved from their cellar.

"Earlier. You didn't hear the guy come to the door?" Trish's softly shaking head caused him to chuckle slightly, "you've been cooped up in that study all day, I'm not surprised you didn't hear."

Trish winced slightly. "Sorry babe, I've just had a lot to do." Randy studied Trish's expression with some interest, as she began devouring the pizza before her, obviously starved from working all day long.

"What's up?" Hesitantly, Trish raised her eyes to meet his questioning gaze. Shrugging her shoulders weakly, she went back to chewing on the pizza, hoping Randy would drop the subject. No such luck apparently. "Trisha, do I have to tickle it out of you?"

A hint of a smile touched Trish's lips at the idea. "Maybe. It's just the marketing team needed some pictures for the presentation of my new perfume. Nothing major." It surprised Trish at how confidently she downplay the importance of her missing photo session.

"Can't you take some more, like at another shoot or something?" Sipping from his glass of wine, Randy watched Trish's expression change, as though she was trying to figure out a way to say what she had to say without offending him.

"Not really. It's too late to book another photographer." she admitted, unable to keep the defeated tone creeping into her voice.

"So what are you going to do?" Dropping the slice of pizza back onto his plate, Randy watched Trish from across the table. Obviously this was serious, and important to Trish. Randy didn't know which annoyed him more, that he had fucked up the photoshoot and by proxy had threatened her career, or the fact that she felt like she couldn't tell him what was wrong.

"Honestly…I don't know." Dropping her own pizza back, Trish leant backwards into her chair, folding her arms across her stomach. Suddenly, she seemed to have lost her appetite, her chest rising and falling into a muted sigh.

Randy sat in silent thought for a moment. Whether Trish would say it or not, this was his fault. He had put her in this position, and he needed to make it right. Softly, he began to chew on his bottom lip, as an idea formed. His lips spread into a smile as he grinned across the table at his wife.

"Meet me by the pool in ten minutes." Were his only words, before Randy darted up from the table and up the stairs out of immediate sight. Trish sat in wonderment, pondering what exactly her husband was planning on doing. Having no immediate clue, Trish's shoulders sagged slightly, as she began pushing uneaten pizza across her plate with her fork. She had made a mess of things, and now Rand felt like he had to make it right.

_When did having a life become so complicated? _Deciding not to give into self-absorbed wallowing, Trish realised she had waited the required ten minutes as instructed, and so begrudgingly got up from the table, making her way to the pool area.

The sound of Janet Jackson sultry singing 'That's the Way Loves Goes' peaked Trish's interest, making her step just that little bit faster. Scaling the few stone steps, Trish gasped at what Randy had created. The beauty of the house they had chosen, was that it had large trees on the one side of the property, which completely blocked the house and the back yard from view. Randy and Trish had used this seclusion to their advantage on many occasions, and it seemed this time would be no different.

Hanging from fir trees were wisps of white silk, dancing delicately in the breeze like liquid colour in the warm evening air. The same material spilled out on the ground before the trees, with collections of candles of different sizes placed around in the area, giving an ethereal flickering quality to the scene.

And standing off to one side was a barefoot Randy, dressed only in a pair of loose fitting denim jeans, which rode so low on his hips that Trish could feel a blush creeping to her cheeks as it became obvious he wasn't wearing any underwear. In on hand, he held a camera close to his waist, a soft smile on his lips.

"You did all this for me?" Trish's voice was a little shaky as she stepped up to be closer to Randy. His smile was warm as he reached out and caressed his fingers over her shoulder and down the length of her back.

"Do you trust me?" He spoke so quietly, Trish could barely here it. Hesitantly, she looked into his eyes, trying to figure out what he was planning. His face was passive and unreadable, not giving anything away to inquisitive stare. Slowly, she nodded her head as an affirmative answer to the question.

Randy's smile was bright as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small metallic tin. Unscrewing the lid, Trish realised it was a container of Vaseline. Raising an eyebrow suggestively, Trish wondered exactly what he was planning of softening, or more importantly just exactly what he going to lubricate.

Dipping the pad of his finger into the tin, Randy slid it across the top of the greasy smooth semi solid. Raising his finger back up, he touched it to the full pout of Trish's pink lips. Gently, he glided it across the length of her bottom lip, before moving up to the top mound, moving the same movement as before. Trish's breath came in short gasps at the contact, and noted with some delight the crimson flush in Randy's neck and cheeks.

Seemingly content with the shine on Trish lips, Randy reached up to the clip in her hair, pulling it loose and sending her hair tumbling down her back in waves.

"When did you become such an expert in hair and beauty?" Trish's voice held a tone of amusement, as she let her limbs go loose, allowing Randy to grip the hem of her tee-shirt, pulling it cleanly up and off of her body. Bending down to his knees, he began unbuttoning her jeans, placing soft kisses on each new inch of exposed flesh.

"I live with an ex-WWE Diva and model. You pick up a few things," Randy growled, licking the length of skin that rested just above the line of Trish's panties, "and there was this one time with my little sister when I was twelve. It involved her 'Barbie Make-Up' kit and aspirations to be a make-up artist…"

Trish's soft giggle became a gasp Randy's mouth left a trail of heat down the front of her underwear as he completely removed her jeans from her legs. Lazily, he extended himself to his full height, his lips grazing Trish's exposed flesh on the journey back up. Eventually the found her neck, as his hands expertly worked the clasp on the back of her bra. In one swift move, he unhooked Trish's bra, and pulled the straps down over her shoulders, freeing her breasts from the confines of the support.

In wasn't by any means cold, but Randy felt Trish's skin shudder at the exposed hair. Resisting the urge to loose himself in Trish's beautiful chest, Randy's hands brushed down her sides, resting on her hips, his fingers gliding beneath the waist band of her underwear. His eyes flitted to her for a moment, searching for validation. It was given whole-heartedly, as Trish looked into his eyes, her bottom lip ever-so-slightly trembling. Stealing it into a kiss, Randy brushed down Trish's panties, pushing the down past her knees to the floor.

Stepping out of the undergarment, Trish found herself wrapped in Randy's arms as her body became accustomed to the breeze. Leaning into the embrace, Trish found a delicious hardness pushing between Randy's thighs, straining to be released from his suddenly all-too-tight jeans. Randy guessed Trish had noticed this, and carefully released the grip of his arms, once again taking her hand and leading her to his make shift 'set'.

"Lay down.' Randy instructed, his voice gruff and filled with lust. Trish responded as she was told to, dropping down to lay onto her side. Backing up for a second, Randy eyes travelled the length of Trish's prostrated, and lost the ability to control himself. He was on top of her in a second, his lips travelling from her lips, down to the soft flesh of her neck, down and over each breast in turn, eliciting gentle moans from her parted lips, before making the final descent even further below the waist.

Carefully, Randy hooked Trish legs up over each of his shoulder, dipping his head down even further. Trish's scent was heady and intoxicating, sending Randy's blood pounding around his body, painfully centring further down between his thighs. This close to Trish, and Randy could see how aroused she truly was. Without any further hesitation, Randy released his tongue, losing himself in the hot silk of Trish's body. Involuntarily, Trish's body arched upwards, curving her spine as she moaned, her hands gripping into Randy's hair.

Randy groaned as a response, tasting sheer heaven between his lips, pushing further into Trish. Her breath became more ragged, her hips bucking every once and in a while from the excruciating pleasure Randy was providing. His tongue worked her burning core mercilessly, working over and between the soft flesh, caressing her thighs with his hands.

As Trish's breath started to become gasping moans, Randy released how close she was to her climax. Smiling as he worked his tongue, Randy alternated between flicking his tongue across and sucking the soft nub of flesh, his ears filled with the sound of his own names, screamed in unashamed ecstasy by his wife.

Trish shuddered in ecstasy, her body tightening so much it was painful as she neared release. It built like a volcano, and explosion of sensation sending Trish over the edge into an earth shattering orgasm. She couldn't hide the intense, body-wide pleasure even if she had wanted to. She could only pant as the rhythm of Randy's licks and kisses slowed to a gentle caress. Mercifully, her body stilled itself, as her back slowly came down from its high to once more rest on the ground. Randy gently slid himself from her limp legs, climbing over to rest on top of her.

Her eyes were swollen with lust, hazy and distant as Randy stroked her hair.

"Stay there." He whispered, planting a kiss on her open mouth. Gripping at the silk sheets all around, he carefully lay one across Trish naked body, covering her breasts and more intimate areas, whilst still exposing her beautiful body. Taking a few steps backward, Randy snatched up the camera he had left behind, getting Trish into focus through the lens. The contended lust spread across Trish's face gave her skin the most beautiful glow, with her hair a mass of golden blonde pooling all around her head.

"Beautiful." Was the only commented randy could make which could fit what he saw. With Trish leaning her head back to face the camera, Randy began snapping the shutter, taking pictures from different angles, committing every delicious inch of Trish to film, revelling in the look of desire on her features. As if coming back to life, Trish began to shift her position into more provocative poses, using the sheet to keep her modesty whilst still looking like a goddess between the sheets. Her experience of photshoots meant she knew how to work her angles, getting several moans of approval from Randy.

Having exhausted three roles of film, Randy moved in to get a close up of shot Trish. Apparently, it seemed she had other idea, as she reached out with both hands, gripping his massive shoulders and pulling him onto floor. In a swift move, she rolled on top of his body, her lips burning kisses all along his neck and over his Adam's apple.

"Trish…photo…shoot…" each word came out as strained groan, as Randy's hips bucked, his erection engorged and painful, begging for release. Trish seemed to sense his heightened need, and dragged her body down the length of his body, paying particular attention to his delicious stomach, one of Trish favourite parts of Randy's body.

"It can wait." came her hissed response, as she ripped at the buttons of his jeans. Randy opened his mouth to mount some kind of protest. He was trying his best to help Trish, and make up for losing her other photographer. His mind was instantly quietened at the sensation of Trish's searing mouth swallowing his erection in an intense deep-throating move.

Groaning deeply, Randy lost all inclination to fight his mounting desire. Slowly his mind broke free, drifting elsewhere, into the waiting arms of sexual ecstasy to which only Trish could provide…

_Hell, the photoshoot would fuckin' wait!_


	6. Choices

**_A/N _Update! Hooray! lol!**

**Thank you for the reviews guys, I really appreciate it. I kinda liked that last chapter. The image of Randy taking pictures of Trish was my inspiration for the story, and the rest has been built around it. And we're getting oh so dramatic in this chapter. As ever, I would love some reviews, you guys have been amazing so far and I really love it! So keep 'em coming! They make my day.**

**I disclaim!**

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_"I have to say Trish, these are some of the most amazing shots of you I think I've ever seen of you. Such raw beauty and an almost eroticism in your expression. Can we ask who the photographer was?"_

Trish smiled coyly, twisting a strand of hair around her finger, before placing it behind her ear. From behind the large white table she was sat behind, Trish leaned forward, so that her mouth was closer to the stationary microphone.

"The photographer wishes to remain nameless," she smiled, "and isn't interested in taking credit for the shots. Sorry people." A few feet in front of the table, the crowd of the collective press groaned, some speaking in hushed tones into their tape recorders, others scribbling down responses in their trusty note-pads. The occasional flash of a camera shutter bathed the room in brilliant light, whilst the television cameras continued to role.

After her improvised photoshoot, Trish had sent the film real to be developed. Everyone who had seen the pictures were amazed at how the photographer in question had captured Trish in way no-one else could. Her simplistic poses and hazy eyes revealed a level of beauty deeper than just what everyone immediately assumed of Trish.

The pictures had been released to the public, and whirlwind of a media storm followed, leading to this press conference being called. The had been shown on news shows, talk shows and were the number one searched for image on the internet. Trish had granted the collected press with her presence in order to promote her perfume, but had remained tight lipped as to who the photographer was who had taken these pictures. Indeed, whoever _they _were, _they_ were being offered work after just one shoot. Of course, Randy had chosen to remain nameless, but no-one could deny his pride at being praised for taking some amazing pictures of his wife.

Whatever reputation Trish may have had after the 'incident' with Marcus, it had been swiftly dissipated, with everyone in the 'celebrity' world abuzz with news of the new photos. In response to the increasing public demand, selected stores had sold Trish's aptly named new perfume '_Euphoria_' had sold out within hours of going on sale. Now, with the actual launch just moments away, the entire situation had reached a fever pitch like no-one had seen before. If ever the country, and indeed the world had a 'sweetheart', it seemed right now to be Trish Orton.

And now, stood in front a huge poster displaying her perfume, Trish held on the bottles up, being flanked by the directors of the company that manufactured and distributed the scent. In a gale of shutters and flashes of light, the image was snapped and would be used for headlines all around the world. Trish couldn't keep the genuine grin from her face as she posed for pictures, and the public stampeded into the store where the press conference was taking place, desperate to get their hands on this new scent she was releasing.

It was a wonderful moment for Trish. She had done the impossible. She had created herself a career outside of the wrestling industry, after many suspected her to simply fade into obscurity, content to stay at home and be Mrs. Orton. To the contrary, Trish's business was booming, already receiving huge lists of demands for new underwear to be designed, not to mention three further scents in the early planning stages. It was good to be Mrs. Orton.

With a glass of celebratory champagne in her hand, Trish made the necessary 'meetings and greetings' with various members of the press and other high profile figures who had descended on the conference and the release. She wasn't a particular fan of 'mingling' as her agent described it, but she realised it was a necessary evil in order to save face with the gathered crowds. Already, people were flocking to her perfume stand, and as far as the eye could see women carried the pink box containing 'Euphoria'. Feeling a swell of pride, Trish took a moment to enjoy her success.

As with most things, it seemed it couldn't last, as movement out of the corner of Trish's eye caught her attention. Trish knew she would recognise his face anywhere. Those dark puppy dog eyes, matching the dark brown hair, speckled with flecks and streaks of grey around the edges. His face was a little podgy, giving his face an almost boyish attractive quality. The suit he was wearing spoke volumes of his personal wealth, and Trish knew fully well how rich he was.

From across the room, Shane McMahon raised his glass to Trish, a gesture of celebration. Of course, Trish knew this couldn't be more false. Instead of raising her glass in return as was the custom with such things, she set it down and carefully weaved her way through the crowd towards Shane. Leaning against the back wall, his eyes glittered with intent as he quietly sipped on the divine sparkling liquid.

Stopping just in front of Shane, Trish folded her arms, her eyebrow raised in question. The prodigal son of the McMahon family simply smiled, before draining the last few drops of the champagne. "What…I don't get a hug?"

"You'll get escorted from the premises in thirty seconds if you don't tell me what you're doing here Shane." It was a cold, barbed response from the usually reserved Trish. But Shane wasn't welcome here. More so, if he was here, it couldn't be good news. If Trish's guess was right, he was acting as Vince's personal emissary, delivering some kind of news.

"Is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Shane's grin was sickeningly false, raising a wave of pure bile in Trish's throat. One drawback from not being with the WWE meant she couldn't just smack him across the face. She was a business woman now, and would have to handle this correctly.

"Who ever said we were friends?" Trish raised an eyebrow, giving her best smirk as she rested her weight on one leg, gently tapping the ground with her foot of the free leg. Shane was definitely up to something alright. Trish would just have to play the mind games in order to find out what.

"Come on now Trish, I'm trying to be nice here. I thought I come to this little event an extend my congratulations, not to mention offer the WWE's continued support to a former employee." To anyone else, Shane's smile would have appears disarming. Having seen it so many times, Trish knew it was the calm before the very destructive storm.

"Shane, I really don't want to play this game. I'm trying to have a good time here, and in order for me to do that, you've have to be some place that's far away from me. So let's just cut the bullshit, and get straight to you telling me what you want." A hint of a threat was bellied in Trish's throat, levelling Shane with a cold stare from her warm chocolate brown eyes. Trish was clearly not in the mood to play.

"Alright Trish," Shane seemingly conceded, "obviously since leaving the company your manners have lessened some what, so I'll just get to as you asked. How's Randy doing? Enjoying the time off?" There was that smile again. The one that made Trish want to lash out in the most violent and physical manner. And because it was used in conjunction with her husband made it a hundred times worse.

Reaching out her hand, Trish grabbed Shane by the suit jacket, launching him forward so they were nose to nose. "You really don't want to be talking about Randy to me. You're treading thin ice here Shane. I really don't want to beat you down here in front of everyone, but you keep pushing my buttons and I will."

"Threats Trish, is that really necessary? Considering the fact that I'm here to help Randy make a triumphant return to the WWE, I thought you'd want to do anything you could to help. Was I wrong in assuming that?" Trish's glare faltered, and reluctantly she let go of the grip she had on Shane's jacket.

Straightening himself up, Shane continued on. "You know how much trouble he is Trish. This last suspension was pretty much strike three. It was only through the combined efforts of myself and Stephanie that Orton didn't find himself suddenly unemployed. If Hunter and my father had had their way, he would have been fired on the spot."

"Why would you of all people defend Randy?" Incredulity oozed from Trish's voice, but she honestly could care less. Shane McMahon was the absolute last person she would ever think of to defend her husband. It wasn't exactly a stretch to say that he and Randy hated one another. It wasn't so long ago that Randy had been in involved in several verbal confrontations with the son of the owner of the company.

"I see his potential," Shane countered, "he's one of the best we've got, and when he's good he makes us a lot of money. If he could just get his ego in check. There's no doubt he's a great wrestler. But he's young, and does nothing to endear himself to the veterans backstage. The only thing he had going for him was you. Everyone loves you Trish, so everyone loved him by proxy. But he has got no respect backstage, and the fans are starting to turn. If he turns heel Trish, there'll be no coming back for him. It'll be right back to square one, and mid card matches to boot."

"So what do you want me to do about this Shane?" Trish asked the question, but some part of her already knew the answer to the question. And as much as she wanted to help Randy, the answer frightened her more than anything else she could think of.

"Come back to RAW. Come back and help get Randy's head back in the game. He needs that calming presence with him to make sure he performs as the guy we all know he can be." Shane looked honest, with no hidden intentions. Of course, that didn't meant that Trish would take what he said at face value, but she couldn't deny that she saw some merit in his argument.

"I retired Shane. I don't want to be a wrestler anymore. I want my own life, away from the road and the injuries and the exhaustion. I would have to give up everything I've worked for. I don't know if I can do that." Trish dipped her head slightly, as though she were ashamed of the admission. Was it so wrong for to want to be independent and not have to rely on her husband? Surely Randy would respect her more if she turned down the opportunity to return to the company?

"You don't have to be an active wrestler again. That's not what I'm asking for." Shane ventured. Trish arched her eyebrow, exhaling her breath sharply at what the younger McMahon was insinuating. It was a life she had given up long before she had met Randy, and wouldn't willingly go back.

"I am not being a valet Shane. No fucking way." Even worse that going back to the company, would mean regressing Trish to what she had been before she had become a trained wrestler. Simply eye-candy. Wandering around in short skirts, acting like slut with no real contribution t make to the company. She had fought extremely hard to get out of that mould, and her idea of hell would be going back to that.

"I didn't mean that either," Shane grinned, open with his honest amusement, "look Trish, my Dad is winding down now. He's getting older, and keeping up with everything is a lot harder for him that is used to be. Which means my role with the company is increasing along with Stephanie. That in turn means I'm relinquishing my position as General Manager of RAW. I've discussed it with my Dad, and he loves the idea of you becoming our new RAW GM."

"You want me to be the General Manager of RAW? Now I know you've been smoking some bad shit." Trish chuckled, shaking her head at what she considered to be an absurd notion. Trish Orton as a General Manager? It was too ridiculous to even entertain.

"Why Trish? You'd make an awesome General Manager. You've got the inside knowledge of the business. You've been a valet, a Diva, a Wrestler and a Champion. Isn't this just the natural Evolution of your role with the company? Think of all the good you could do, not just for Randy but everyone on RAW." Shane sounded almost as though he was pleading with Trish to accept the offer. It was generous, by anyone's standard, but it simply wasn't what Trish wanted.

"Shane, however good I would be at being a General Manager, it's not what I want. I'm retired, remember? I gave all that up. I have a life now, one which I'm not prepared to trade in to become the new GM of a show. The best case scenario would me becoming a puppet for you and your father. What good could I do anyone then?" Folding her arms across her chest, she posed the question.

"It is your decision Trish," Shane replied, his tone a little colder than before, "and I respect the fact you have your own career now. But it's not just yours on the line is it? You can design panties and smells at anytime. If you get kicked out of the only wrestling promotion that matters, you can guarantee there won't be a way back in."

"Is that a threat Shane?" Trish spat, narrowing her eyes into a glare, "are you saying I refuse, you're going to fire Randy?" Shane shifted position, as she straightened his tie, his smile both obvious and devious.

"I never said such a thing," he crowed, "but you're a perceptive girl Trish. I'm sure you can figure what happens next if you turn me down. You know where I am if you want to get in touch…oh, and if I were you, I'd keep this conversation just between us. It would be for the best."

Grinning, Shane dipped his head slightly, before turning and walking away, leaving Trish very much a lone in the sea of people.

_What just happened? Do they really expect me to give up my career to save Randy's? Am I prepared to do that? Is it selfish of me to put my happiness above his, or is it the right thing to do?_

Running her hands back through her hair, Trish truly felt at a loss for words. It was so much to consider, and she didn't dare to discuss it with Randy. But the reality of it was all too clear to Trish. She had to decide whether to pursue her own dreams, of give them up for Randy. The real questions was : -

_Did she really have a choice?_


	7. RAW Stratusfaction, Guaranteed!

**_A/N:_ Update! New Chapter for your reading pleasure. Thank you all so much for the reviews you've been so kind to give me, it's been truly inspiring to read all your kind words and comments on what I've written. I hope, as ever, you've enjoy this chapter. Please read and review, I really love to hear what you guys thing. As ever I disclaim!**

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"You okay there munchkin? You look like you're gonna lose your lunch."

Trish grinned without turning around, knowing she would recognise that voice anywhere. There was only person in the world who had ever used that word to describe her, and even now, it brought a goofy smile to Trish's lips. Turning over her shoulder, Trish offered the warm, beaming smile to the CEO of the company, Linda McMahon.

A regal looking woman, Linda gave the impression of authority wherever she went. She wasn't physical overbearing, about average height with ash blonde hair. One thing Trish had always admired in Linda was her dress sense. She always looked amazing no matter what she wore, and Trish hoped when she reached that age she would look good half as good.

Standing at the side of Trish, loosely holding a cup of luke-warm coffee, Linda gently rested her arm around Trish's shoulder, focusing on the monitor which Trish had been watching. With both hands rested on her stomach, Trish made massaging motion, trying to ease the turbulence there.

"I've got a nervous stomach," Trish admitted, "I've been feeling like this all day. I am pretty petrified of going out there tonight. It's been the best part of a year since I was in a wrestling ring."

"So why'd you come back?" Linda's voice was soft and calming, without the pretence of cunning or subterfuge. As the matriarch of the McMahon family, she was seen as the clear level headed one, the steadfast rudder to the wayward vessel that were the McMahon's. Linda had had her fair share of difficulties since being married to Vince, but she stuck by her husband no matter what - or how egomaniacal he became.

Some would call it blind loyalty, but in some way Trish actually admired Linda for her courage and devotion to Vince. However much she would use her authority to thwart her husband's maniacal schemes and ambitions, she would ever remain the faithful wife to Vince. Trish considered that a testament to the strength of their marriage, even if it meant coping with a man like the Chairman.

Could Trish honestly tell Linda the reason for her returning? The words 'because your son and husband' forced me too she doubted would go down too well. Besides, if she couldn't tell her own husband what was going on, Trish wouldn't very well tell anyone else.

Things had been somewhat strained between Randy and Trish for the final week of his suspension. Randy could read Trish like a book, and he knew very well when she was keeping something from him. In this case, the future of his entire career rested on the proposition made to Trish. Would she sacrifice everything she had become on her own for the man she loved? There weren't two ways around it. There was no way Trish could assume the position of General Manager and run her own business. One would eventually buckle under the strain, and both would collapse.

And weren't the pro's of taking the job outweighing the con's of leaving her business? Trish would return to the company that had been her heart and soul for so long. She would return to the business that was in her blood and dominated every waking thought. It had been the hardest decision in the world to leave, but the time was right back then. And now, she could come back, without having to put up with the weary travelling and constant physical pain of competing. Trish could be with Randy twenty-four/seven again. And she would save his career. It hadn't been so long ago, that he had done the same for her. If ever Trish needed to prove to herself that she deserved to be his wife it was now.

All these thoughts had led to Trish secretly calling Shane whilst Randy was at the gym, and accepting the offer. Shane had sounded quietly relived on the phone, but he must have known Trish didn't have a choice. All she asked was that no-one mention to Randy the terms of her return. The last thing she wanted was Randy having a guilt trip over her giving up her own dreams to further his. It was better this way.

The lying to Randy was something she would have to get over. It hadn't done much for her composure, and a growing sense of unease had been building all week. And Trish was well known for her weak stomach, and nausea had ensued. The day before her return to Monday Night RAW, Trish had done her best to pack her things to join Randy, albeit secretly. Minutes after they had embraced as a goodbye, Trish had taken a taxi to a private airfield to board a privately funded McMahon jet.

A brief business meeting later, and Trish was left to a hotel room by herself, her conscious and her nausea. Part of her craved to tell Randy. He was the one person on the planet that could quieten her fears and settle her nerves. But that would defeat the entire object of her being here. She would just have to suck it up and deal with it on her own.

A mere half an hour before RAW was due to broadcast, Trish had arrived in secret at the arena. As a pretence, Shane had instructed every single person on the roster to be at ringside for the opening of the show, as a major announcement was due to take place. And now, watching from backstage, her eyes fixed on the monitor, Trish barely heard any words that Shane spouted, as he paraded around the ring, the entire talent surrounding it, perched on the ring apron. It seemed some kind of confrontation was going down, involving Randy, Shawn Michaels, Edge, John Cena and HHH, as to who deserved the right to be the number one contender. As the incumbent Champion, Hunter seemed to favour Edge, but neither John or Randy would give up so easily it seemed.

_Ringside_

"_Shane, you've got to look at this from a business stand point. What the people need is something they've never seen before. A new mix of talent facing off inside this ring. The Game, the greatest wrestler alive today against the up-and-coming future leader of this company, Edge in a title match. It's what the people want!" _To a resounding chorus of 'boos', Triple H continued to stalk around the ring as John Cena took the microphone.

"_Whatever man! These people don't wanna see Edge here get his ass handed to him by 'The Game'. These people wanna see me, their boy Cena take on the Game and become the Champ!" _The intensity of the crowd pushed a little further, with more open to that particular match. It seemed as though Shane wasn't interested in what anyone had to say.

"_Unfortunately guys, you've all got a decent claim to take on Hunter for the WWE Championship. But the decision is out of my hands." _Holding the crowd's attention as whispers passed around the ring and indeed into the arena as to what Shane meant, he continued,_ "you see, I've decided to resign my position as General Manager of RAW, and hand over the reigns of power to a person I know can make an authorities decision on what's to happen. I've brought you all out here tonight to meet your new general manager…"_

_Backstage_

Trish's body tensed, as she prepared for what was to happen next. Shane was working the crowd over expertly, building the anticipation of the fans to a peak. Everyone was desperate to find out who his replacement was. Steeling her stomach, Trish turned to face Linda, and answer her question. Despite herself, she couldn't keep the wistful smile on her lips as she spoke.

"Because it's the right thing to do." With a brief hug, more for support than anything else, Trish stepped free of Linda's embrace, and headed up the steps to the curtains leading the staging. Each step weighed heavily on Trish's mind. There was no turning back now. Each step brought her closer to the ring, to the new future as RAW General Manager. She forsaking her own personal happiness for Randy. Someday, she planned to tell him why she would so such a thing. But it wasn't that time right now. Now it was time for Trish to what she did like no other on earth.

It was time to deliver 100 Stratusfaction.

"…_please welcome your new General Manager of RAW…"_

Shane's words echoed around the arena, reverberating in a silent oblivion. Silence descended over the entire arena, every single set of eyes turned to the entrance way. The Titan Tron dimmed slightly, as the collectied public assembly took in a unified breath, and held it…

The infamous 'giggle' which rolled out from the speakers seemed to catch the arena off guard, as though they couldn't process what they had just heard.

"_**Oh! It's Time to Rock and Roll, This Time I'm In Control!" **_

Never in her life, not when she had won her Women's Championship, not when she had won her tag championship, not even when she had participated in the most gruelling Elimination Chamber ever had Trish Orton ever heard such an explosion of sound. It was like a thousand bombs going off once, literally shaking the very foundations of the building with the intensity of the noise. Images or Trish flashed across the screen, as the woman herself appeared on the staging, to a standing ovation.

Trish looked every inch the professional, clothed in black pin stripe business suit, her long blonde hair pulled back out of her face, giving an innate impression of authority. Making her way down the ramp, Trish tag the hands of the enthusiastic fans, basking in the sheer adulations shown to her. This was a moment Trish had fantasized about since leaving the WWE. Returning under a blaze of glory. But not even her wildest dreams had she ever anticipated such a reaction. It even dwarfed the kind of reception Hulk Hogan received. The fans were in throws of ecstasy at seeing _the_ WWE Diva, and their new General Manager, Trish.

Taking the steps into the ring, Kenny of the Spirit Squad stepped back to allow her into the ring, unable to keep the smile from his face. Indeed, everyone around the ring, be they past enemy, friend or indifferent, could not contain their joy at seeing Trish return to the place where they felt she belonged, a WWE ring. Shaking Shane's hand as genuinely as she could, she watched him make his exit from the ring, before raising the mic to her lips to address the arena.

Of course, the fans weren't about to give her that opportunity, as the _'Welcome Home Trish' _chants which had begun on her arrival refused to die down. At ring side, Lillian Garcia, JR and Jerry Lawler were on their feet, applauding the tiny Canadian in the centre of the ring. The superstars followed suit, each clapping their hands in respect and adulation of Trish. Feeling the tears stinging the back of her eyes, it was all she could do not to burst into floods of tears. The nausea which had been plaguing her simply vanished to the greatest feeling of utter love she had ever felt.

And to make it even better, Randy led the applause, his beautiful blue eyes shining with tears of his own, being full or pride and respect for his returning wife. As if a throw back to her past wrestling days, Trish raised her arm as she always had, saluting the crowd. Their response was an even louder explosion of cheers, causing Trish to giggle. Realising no matter how special this moment was, there were time constraints to adhere to, Trish took the microphone to her lips once more, attempting to speak over the roar of the crowd.

"Thank you so much guys. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for the most incredible welcome ever." Trish smiled warmly, as the cheers and applause broke down into separate pockets of fans dotted in the crowd. "As Shane told you all, I've have been hired as the new General Manager of Monday Night RAW. It is a position I feel very humbled and honoured to be offered, and of course to accept."

Grinning at the cheers, Trish continued. "I had the most amazing six years of my life in front of you all. You stood by me, and supported me through my amazing journey as competitor and Diva on RAW. And now, it's my turn to give something back to you all. I promise you, Monday Night RAW won't know what hit. I pledge before you all, to deliver one hundred per cent, Stratusfaction Guaranteed."

The cheers were explosive, and took a good five minutes to quieten. "And as my first act as General Manager, I'm going to make tonight's Main Event here and now. There seems to be a contest as to who is the Number One Contender for HHH's WWE Championship. Well, tonight we will solve that. It will be a Fatal Four Way Elimination, Tables Match, between John Cena, Shawn Michaels, Randy Orton and Edge. The only way to be eliminated is for you to be put through a table. There will be no pin falls, no count outs and no submissions. In addition, it will be No Holds Barred. You boys want that title, then you'll have to work for it."

The crowd swelled to a loud cheer in appreciation of Trish's match making. "But to kick things off tonight, a kind of match that's close to my heart. We're going to have ourselves a little girl on girl fight. Lita, Victoria and Jazz? You girls are going to fight a Triple Threat Match for the Women's Championship. And that match starts…now! Clear the ring and ring the bell."

Tossing the microphone over the top rope into Lillian Garcia's waiting hands, Trish strode out of the ring, as the bell rung. Jazz was the first to react, slamming Lita down viscously in a side-walk slam. As Victoria got herself in on the action, Trish turned to face the Titan Tron, making her way back up the ramp as she was certain things were beginning well. Behind her, the RAW Superstars cleared the immediate area, filling up the ramp and back to their respective locker rooms.

Making her way backstage, Trish hurried down the steel steps, past the monitors and production staff, heading into the nearest corridor. Trish's heart was pounding wildly in her head, her hand held to her heart as tried to regain her breath. Trish had gotten through her first twenty minutes as General Manager. Now she just needed to make it to the end of the night. _If I can do that, then it's been a good night._

Trish's final thought seemed rather ominous and unattainable, as it was the last thing she remembered thinking, before collapsing to the ground.


	8. If You Only Knew

**_A/N:_ Update! New Chapter up for you guys. Thank you all so very, very much for your continued support and the reviews you leave, it really makes me smile, you guys have no idea. I can be having the worst day imaginable, and I just click and see what someone has said about my story, and it just makes me smile. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I disclaim as I own nothing. Please Read and Review!**

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"Randall Keith Orton, I am not going to say it again! I am not going to see a damn doctor!" Trish pouted her full pink lips, crossing her arms across her full chest as if trying to shield herself from Randy's concerned gaze. He half expected to her 'huff' her breath and stamp her feet, just to add even more weight to her point.

"Baby, you passed out in a corridor. What if there's something wrong?" Randy batted his eye lashes like a professional, his crystal blue eyes giving Trish the best 'puppy dog' look he could muster, the soft intones of his voice tugging all the right strings to her heart. And normally, it would be enough to win Trish over in any argument. But not this one it seemed.

"I've already told you," Trish fired back, her teeth gritting a little as she spoke, "I've been really stressed out these past few days. Keeping secrets and coming back to the business…I guess it all just got too much for me. Even I have limits. They are few and far between, but they exist. But there's nothing more wrong than that, would you just trust me?"

Randy pouted, which prompted Trish to pout right back, albeit it an amused fashion, sticking her hands on her jutting hips. It wasn't enough to settle Randy's concerns, but he could see no sense in pushing Trish any further, it was clear she just wasn't going to play tonight. She was clearly on the edge, and the very last thing Randy wanted was to make her feel any worse, especially in such a fragile condition. He would have to settle for taking this up with her at another time.

Sighing, Randy leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the back of his wife in a gentle embrace, the tips of his fingers finding their beneath the hem of her blouse, sinking into the warm flesh of her back. Randy was worried about Trish, and he didn't like the dismissive attitude she was taking. It wasn't like Trish to just faint for no reason, stress or not.

The Superstars had all been filling backstage after Trish's amazing return as the General Manager. Randy had been one of the last to step behind the curtain, joking with Jeff Hardy that now he would get somewhere because his girl was now in charge. He turned his head only to see a group of officials and wrestlers gathered around something in a corridor near by. Of course, being the none the wiser as to what was going on, Randy had intended to head to Trish's office to _personally_ welcome her back to the company, not taking much notice of the commotion going on near by. That was until he saw the mane of golden blonde hair sprayed out on the cold cement.

Randy had rushed forward, and felt his heart turn at the sight of his wife unconscious on the cold concrete. It was almost a macabre portrait, the silky tanned skin juxtaposed against the harsh grey of the rough mix cement. Randy had fought his way forward, scooping Trish into the safety of his large arms, taking her to the trainers room and waited patiently for her to come too. After a brief examination by the trainer, Trish had been allowed to go, citing stress as the reason she collapsed. Randy didn't buy it, but had accompanied her back to her office where he had been watching over her ever since.

Randy was fully aware Trish was stressed out, and worked up over coming back to RAW, he had at least gotten that much out of her. What Randy now couldn't figure out was why.

Why was Trish so concerned about making her return, and more importantly why had she chosen to come back at all? She had a life and a career she was building for herself outside of the business. For her to come back now at the height of her success struck Randy as being odd at the very least. Everything she had ever secretly dreamed of, and worked that gorgeous tush off to get, only to let it go in an instant for something he didn't even know she had considered. Being the enigmatic wonder that she was, Trish had evaded his line of questioning expertly.

Kicking himself, Randy had known something was going on, days ago. _Why didn't I call her on it then if I was so sure? _Trish had seemed distant, down to her usually brilliant smiles not quiet reaching her warm chocolate eyes. And try as he might, Randy couldn't find the cause, as she down right refused to open about it. Now he had a partial answer as to what was getting at Trish, the 'Legend Killer' knew that it wasn't the end of the matter. There was something else, something more behind Trish's mood and her nonchalant attitude that she wasn't sharing. It was clear, no matter how he would try, Trish wasn't going to open up. And it drove him insane.

Randy couldn't help but feel that this attitude was part of the reason why Trish was so blasé about passing out. It was totally out of character for Trish. She never got sick. She never complained. The most Randy knew, was that she had a fairly weak stomach and felt nauseous at the signs of stress. She had done that, so that wasn't so much out of character for her. Randy had often joked with Trish that she had a constitution of steel, as nothing seemed to affect her, nerves being her only form of 'kryptonite'. Perhaps, for Randy, this was the first time he had seen some kind of vulnerability Trish, something out of his control, and something which she couldn't fight. And what made it worse was that she was choosing to ignore it.

Whether Trish Orton liked it or not, she would be going to see a Doctor, even if Randy had to tie her up and drag her there against her formidable will. Sidetracked by the delicious thought of Trish tied up, Randy noticed that she had begun resting her head on his bare chest, her hands fixed around his waist. Now Randy knew she was feeling defeated. She never held Randy like this and unless something was up.

Softly massaging her back, Randy whispered into her hair. "Baby, please tell me what's wrong. It kills me to know that there's something up and you won't say what it is. Please? Just tell me."

Rolling her head up, Trish rested her chin on his chest, her chocolate depths rested on Randy's sparkling blue eyes. She knew he was desperate to help, and part of her wanted so badly to tell him what was wrong, why she had come back…what she had given up. But she knew she couldn't. That would cause more problems that it would solve. Whether she liked it or not, for the time being, she had to play the McMahon game. But she had limits. And they were being severely tested by this.

"I'm just tired," it wasn't exactly a lie, Trish assured herself, as she was feeling exhausted. It just wasn't the complete truth she knew Randy wanted "It just kind of overwhelmed me I think, coming back and going in front of the fans. I'd forgotten what it was like… the rush of everything. But I'll be okay. Just a good, long, comatose sleep and I'll be fine."

"You still haven't told me why you kept it a secret," Randy pointed out, his eyes challenging Trish for the absolute truth. Part of him doubted whether or not he would get it, but he could only try. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?"

_Here we go. Time to put the lie I worked out into practice. _"It was going to a surprise," Trish began, very conscious of the probing depths of Randy's crystal orbs, "that, and my contract held to absolute secrecy. I didn't sign it fully until earlier today. I wasn't sure if I was going to take the job or not, so I didn't see the need to get your hopes up if I decided not to go through with it. You're not…mad I came back, are you?"

"Are you fucking crazy girl?" Randy pulled Trish into an even tighter hug, raining a laughter of kisses over her face. "Having you by my side, back on the road, that's all I've ever wanted. But I need to know why you decided to give everything you've worked for up? What about your business?" Randy hadn't entirely bought the explanation Trish had given, but he knew he that was the absolute best he could get. The glint in her eyes told him that for definite. It seemed pointless to try at the moment, and least, to get the truth whilst she was in this mind frame.

"Well, I figured I can always go back to fashion design," Trish licked her lips before continuing, "it was more of a hobby I turned into a career. It'll still be there when I go back. And anyway, you know I love this business. I never said I'd be gone forever. It just seemed like an amazing opportunity. The time was just right I guess."

Randy's lips parted, as if he was going to counter what he said. Trish watched as the look of consideration passed over his features, as if he thought better of challenging Trish's explanation. Instead, Randy's head dipped closer to Trish's, melting their lips together in a soft kiss. It was the best kind (or worst) depending on Trish's mood. He knew just how to take her body tremble, to send waves of pleasure reverberating around her body to the point of pain. Randy's gently velvet soft-lips turned her legs to jelly, the soft caress of his tongue breaking down her resolve. Trish knew Randy realised exactly what he did to her, as his hand gripped around her lower back, providing support for her trembling body which threatened to give way.

As he pulled his head back, Trish silently begged Randy not to push her further. There was no way she could lie now. He'd won, and he must know it.

Amazingly, Randy simply placed a brief kiss on her chin, before stepping free of Trish's arms. Turning his back, he walked across the room, grabbing at his duffle bag. Tossing it onto the leather sofa, Randy gripped the waist of his jeans, loosening the buttons before pulling them down, off each leg, taking his shoes with them.

Leaning against the wall, Trish let her eyes travel the length of her husband's glorious body. That two week break had been great for Randy's training. The extra effort in the gym had stripped off 3lbs of fat, and replaced them with 5lbs of muscle. His stomach looked fantastic, defined perfectly into chiselled mounds and grooves.. Trish briefly wondered, just as a matter of purely scientific interest, if she could grate cheese over his abs. It could be fun to try. Grinning at the thought, Trish let her eyes move over his flexing back, enjoying the sight of his back muscles tense and coil, the expanse of his tattoo emblazoned across the back of his shoulders rippling with the slight effort getting undressed.

Stripped down to a simple black thong, Randy turned, offering Trish a cheeky wink, bringing a giggle in response, as he slipped his wrestling trunks up his legs to cover his waist. Dropping onto the couch, Randy began fastening the laces of his boots, his mind working over the match to come. Trish could tell this was an intense, private moment for her husband. Before every match he fought, Randy went through this routine, psyching himself up for the contest, thinking about his moves and counters, what each opponent could bring. Lines of concentration marked his face, as Randy pulled himself up from the seat, getting into a brief jog, warming the muscle fibres in his powerful legs.

Next would come the stretching. Licking her lips in anticipation, Trish couldn't wait. No sooner had she thought it, than did her ears register the knock on her office door. Groaning, Trish felt compelled to go an answer. Gone were the days where she could just pretend she wasn't in, and get down and dirty with Randy during his little training regime. She had responsibilities now, not to mention a show to run. Snatching at the handle to the door, she tore it open, to be greeted with the face of a grinning Shane McMahon.

"Trish! Fantastic start," barrelling past Trish, Shane made himself comfortable on the leather sofa, "shame about the incident in the hallway, but you're looking okay. You've done and excellent job! We made the right decision in hiring you…oh, I didn't realise you had company…"

Randy grinned falsely as Shane waved his hand slightly, in recognition of Randy's presence in the room. Stuffing his jeans into his duffle bag, Randy crossed the room, taking Trish between his large hands, backing her up against the wall. Not caring if Shane was here or not, he stole her lips into another exhilarating kiss, nuzzling at her neck as Trish fought hard to release the contended groan bubbling in her throat.

"Don't let him fuck you around," Randy whispered, his lips teasing at the pulse in her neck, "that'll be for me to do later. I love you." Trish sighed into his embrace, cupping his face between her hands. Gently, she traced the soft pillows of his cheeks with her thumbs, bringing a bashful smile to his beautiful lips.

Placing a gentle kiss on them, Trish replied. "I love you too. Have a great match. Go get your shot at the title." Randy winked, giving Trish one more kiss. He turned to leave, but stopped as he felt the palm of Trish's hand connected with the round of his butt. Grinning, he wagged his finger as if mocking. Giving a brief nod to Shane, Randy bounded out of the room, ready for his match.

Closing the door firmly behind her husband, Trish steeled herself for what was to come next with Shane. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with any McMahon inspired bullshit. She hadn't given up everything just to go back to being a pawn in the game of Mr. McMahon and his cronies. But more than that, her relationship with Sports Entertainment's most powerful family was starting to cause problems for her marriage, both directly and otherwise.

No matter how much she tried to convincer herself otherwise, Trish hadn't been telling Randy the truth during their conversation, and what made it worse? They _both_ knew it.


	9. Revelations Pt 1

**_A/N : _Update! New chapter for your reading enjoyment. It's been a while, sorry to keep you guys hanging on so long! As ever, your reviews have been fantastic, thank you so much for your words and support. I hope you enjoy this one. As ever, I disclaim. Please Read & Review!!**

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"Aw Trish, that is disgusting!" Randy winced, trying to avoid eye contact with the explosive has of green and yellow chunky fluid being projected down into the toilet bowl. With one hand , he held back the mane of Trish's hair, keeping it safe from the flow of vomit, whilst the other gently massaged over her back, trying to soothe his wife, as she quilt literally it seemed was loosing her insides.

"Shut it Orton." Trish groaned, slumping her head sideward, being grated a brief respite from the constant stream of bile. Barely managing to get to her feet, she gently moved Randy aside as she headed over to the sink. Taking slow gulps of water, she gargled the cool liquid, trying to remove the bitter sting burning in her mouth. Shaking her head, she ran her hands back through her hair, looking as though she was going to sink to her knees. In a second Randy was there, scooping his shaken wife up into his arms. Trish's head lazily lolled onto Randy's chest, feeling safe encircled between her husband's strong arms, as he carried her through to the bedroom.

With as much care as possible, randy gently laid her body out on the plus covers of the bed. Climbing onto the bed next to her, Trish pulled his body close, using his muscular chest to rest on, screwing her eyes closed at the waves of nausea riding over her. Randy continued the motions of his hand, letting it glide up and down her back, trying in some way to ease her suffering.

"I am never…ever….eating Mexican again." Trish moaned into Randy's chest, obviously blaming the food from the evening before for making her vomit so harshly. Of course, Randy knew better than to accept that. After winning his match to become the Number One Contender for the WWE Championship the evening before, he had returned to Trish's private locker room, elated, to share the news only to find her laid out on the couch, her eyes hazy and distant.

Being the trooper that she was, she had roused herself, doing her best to share in Randy's victory. They had gone out to a restaurant in the town, with several other Superstars from the company, and proceeded to party the night away. Trish had done her best to be involved, although she stuck to soft drinks all night and ate very little, whilst everyone else had indulged in the pleasures of food and alcohol. When they had eventually arrived back at their hotel room, Trish had collapsed into a light slumber, nixing any plans Randy had to 'celebrate' his night any further.

Of course, Trish hadn't stayed asleep for very long. In the early hours of the morning, she had begun the first of many trips to the bathroom, where she had proceeded vomit uncontrollably. By the time the sun had risen, Trish had started to drive heave, as she had pretty much removed all the contents of her stomach, having nothing left to bring up. The constant heaving had exhausted Trish to the point of tears. Every time she had tried to go back to bed to sleep, she'd had to drag herself back to the bathroom for another onslaught. Randy had awoken the first time she had gone to the bathroom, and had been awake with her ever since, whispering soothingly and holding her hair back from her face.

Seeing Trish this sick worried Randy to the point of nervous exhaustion. More than once during the evening, he had suggested calling an ambulance for his wife, which of course she had refused. By 5.30am however, Randy had clearly had had more than he could take, and telephoned a Doctor in the local area who performed and emergency out of hours service. Trish was booked to go in and see him at 8am. Assuming that is, she could actually make it to the surgery without throwing up.

"You need to start getting ready baby," Randy whispered into her hair, feeling guilty as she had been dozing lightly against his body, "we gotta get you to the Doctors in 30minutes. You want me to help you?"

"I don't need a Doctor Randy," Trish drawled, squinting her eyes open to look into Randy's eyes, "I've just got stomach flu or something. It'll pass in a few days. I just need to sleep…"

"No Trish, you are going to see the Doctor if I have to drag you there by your hair. You are sick okay? You've been feeling rough all week, you've passed out, and now you can't stop up-chucking. There's something wrong, and we need to get it figured out. Would you please, this one time, not fight me on this? It'll make it easier if you just agree."

Trish opened her mouth to argue, but gave in. The look of concern and almost fear deep in Randy's eyes made it clear that she couldn't refuse him this. It was one of those times during the marriage where she would have to give in, whether she agreed or not. Nodding slowly, she raised her head up from his chest. "Okay…just help me up?"

Randy had been relieved, and had done everything he could to help Trish. He had carried her back to the bathroom, and put her in the shower, before joining her. Almost surprisingly, Randy made no effort to have his way with her naked body as they shared a shower. He simply took great efforts to wash her hair, seemingly enjoying massaging the cherry scented shampoo from root to tip, inhaling the intoxicating scent as he did so. He softly scrubbed her body down, and dried her with a towel. If Trish was honest, she actually enjoyed the treatment, even though she probably could have managed on her own.

But Randy wasn't done there. He carefully combed out her hair and dried it, even to the point of using her straighteners to ease out the length of her blonde hair, stating he had seen her doing it so many time, it would be easy to do it for her. Selecting a pair of loose combat pants and baby-tee, he had even dressed her. Taking a step back, Randy was seemingly admiring his handiwork, obviously pleased with the results.

The car journey to the surgery was met without event, and Trish had managed to hold it together all the way. However, no sooner had they entered the waiting room than Trish had run directly to the bathroom, her stomach clearly needing to expel what was left in its contents. Trish had assured Randy that she didn't need any company during her consultation. She guessed that he would spend most of his time pacing the length of the waiting room whilst he was waiting, but Trish didn't think she could cope with Randy being present with her.

Dropping herself in the chair opposite the doctor, Trish was somewhat relieved that she was female. Her eyes flittered over the credentials on the wall, Doctor Megan Carey. Dr. Carey was clearly not much older than Trish herself, with a bob of brown hair hanging down around her striking face. She wasn't exactly classical beautiful, but there was definitely an indefinable attraction about the woman. Grinning, she sat down to face Trish, shaking the other woman's hand.

"Trish, welcome. I'm Dr. Megan Elise Carey, feel free to call me Megan. What brings you here this morning? According the phone call, you've been experiencing nausea and vomiting, is that about right?" Trish vaguely nodded her head. She didn't see much point in downplaying her symptoms. If there was, god forbid, something wrong then she'd need to find out what as soon as possible. "Okay, well I'll need to take a few tests, most of which can be done while you're here. We'll start with your blood pressure to begin with."

Fixing the cuff around Trish's upper arm, Dr. Carey clicked a button, causing the grey material to fill with air as it measured her pulse. Waiting for the reading, Dr. Carey clucked her tongue, shaking her head softly. "This is a little high Trish. Maybe a cause for concern. Is there something in particular stressing you out at the moment?"

"I'm married to Randy Orton. I defy any woman not be to at her wits end." Trish giggled, causing the Doctor to join in. Removing the cuff, she moved across the room, selecting a needle. Pulling on a set of rubber gloves, she proceeded to swab down a small area on Trish's arm in order to disinfect it. "I'm just going to take a sample of blood Trish, so we can run it for tests. You'll feel a slight pinch, but it'll pass." With that, the needle became inserted into Trish's arms, withdrawing blood. Trish winced slightly, trying to ignore the uncomfort in her arm. But as the Doctor has said, it eventually gave way. Snapping off the collection tube, Megan bagged it a waiting plastic wrap, and scribbled a description across the front in order to send to their testing laboratory.

"Okay Trish," Megan began holding up small cup, "I'd like a urine sample please. There's a bathroom just across the hall. If you could fill this up for me, and then we can take it from there." Trish nodded, exiting the room. Glancing to the left, she saw Randy rise from his seat ready to meet her from the waiting room, a concerned scowl crossing his handsome features. Waving the cup, she grinned weakly before stepping inside the bathroom, preparing to give the urine sample.

Settling herself down, Trish could help but ponder on what the outcome could be of today's tests. What if there was something wrong? Trish had never considered the possibility that she might actually be sick. What if it was something serious, and by putting off coming to see the Doctor she had done some irreversible damage? What if she was dying? Trish tensed at the thought. She could be dying, and by waiting so long she could have wasted any opportunity there was to save her life?

_Get a grip Patricia! Stop prophesising your own death until you know what's going on. And the Doctor wonders' why you have such a high blood pressure._

That scolding voice in the back of her mind, somehow made her feel better. Giggling, out of hysteria more than anything, Trish snapped the lid onto the cup and returned into the Doctors office. Megan took the plastic container, offering a reassuring smile to Trish. Opening the lid, Trish winced slightly, causing Megan to chuckle. "It's okay Trish, I do this a thousand times a day." Raising a thin piece of card, the Doctor dipped it into the fluid, holding it there for a second before, before removing it. Obviously watching for some kind of reaction, Megan nodded. "Well, we can rule out a water infection, so that's good news."

Grabbing another test, Megan dipped in into the liquid, again timing it for a reaction. Trish dipped her head, watching herself ring her own hands on her lap. It was the waiting that was making things worse. She just wished Megan would diagnose her with whatever was wrong. She could cope with the problem, if she just knew what she was facing. Just being so unsure was making Trish's stomach turn over, to the point where she was sure she was about be vomit all over again. That was until the Doctor spoke.

"Okay Trish. I know what's wrong." Trish snapped her head up to face Megan, whose face was expressionless, almost grim look of determination tightening her jaw. It couldn't good be news, not with Megan fiddling so agitatedly with the papers on her desk "I think it's best if we get your husband in here, okay?"

Feeling tears sting her eyes, Trish nodded her head_. This was it_. Her won stupid stubborn nature meant she was going to die and it would be all her own fault. What would Randy say? Would he ever forgive her? Would he want to be with someone who had some terminal life threat hanging over her? Clasping her head in her hands, Trish didn't even notice Megan call for Randy over the intercom system. In a second Randy burst into the room, eyes darting every where as be practically threw himself in the chair next to Trish, throwing his arm protectively over her shoulders. Turning to face him, Trish's face looked so small and weak, her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

"Thanks for joining us Mr. Orton," Doctor Carey began, "I've just been examining Trish, and I've diagnosed what's going on with her. Trish -…"

"Doctor wait," Randy cut her off, turning to face his wife, "baby look at me. No matter what it is, it doesn't matter okay? We will get through his together, me and you all the way, right?" Trish nodded weakly, unspeakably glad of the strength that her husband was providing. Right now, she felt about ready to break, as if she were hanging on a thread and would shatter emotionally. "What's wrong with my wife?"

"Nothing at all," Megan smiled, causing Trish's eyebrows to knit in the middle, unsure of exactly what was wrong. Hadn't she just said that she'd diagnosed what was wrong with her? How could she now say there was nothing wrong? "At least nothing I can cure anyways." So that was it. There was nothing she could do. "Give it nine months, and you'll be right as rain."

"I don't understand." Randy uttered, looking about as confused as Trish. Megan turned from both Randy to Trish, trying to gage some sort of understanding. It seemed, however, that neither had picked up on what she had hinted at. As if the proverbial penny had dropped, suddenly a light sparked behind Trish's eyes, as began to understand what the Doctor had meant.

Of course, it would still mean some more explanation was needed for the father-to-be. "Randy," Megan grinned, "Trish is pregnant. You're going to have a baby."

Stunned silence hit Randy like, his mouth hanging loose as he tried to process exactly what was going on. He had come in expecting the worst, and instead, he'd been given the best news he had ever received in his entire life. _Was he dreaming? _Trish seemed to need to reiterate what the Doctor said, repeating the words, as if that would make it more real. "I'm pregnant..?"

"Almost four weeks," Megan smiled, reaching across the table, squeezing Trish's hand in her own. She imagined this must be a weight off the young woman's mind. "I think you've started a little early on the morning sickness, probably made worse by stress but it'll pass soon enough. Congratulations."

"And who the fuck is the father?" Randy bellowed, causing Trish to leap out of her skin, and Megan to look unbelievably embarrassed. Randy flew up from his chair, knocking it to the ground. The look on his face was unreadable, but menacing. Randy glared down at his wife in a mix of disbelief and sheer fury. "Who is it Trish?"

"What are you talking about you moron?" Trish fired back, her own incredulity beating down her nausea which had been gripping her stomach. What on earth could he mean by asking who was the father of their child? Who else could it possibly be? Would Randy really accuse Trish of sleeping around? How could he? Never in a million years would Trish ever screw around behind her husbands back. No other man on the planet even compared to him. Not that he seemed to agree however.

"You're four weeks pregnant," Randy stated, his voice coming out a growl, "we haven't made love since before I was suspended. So there is no way that baby is mine." Seemingly self satisfied with his accusation, Randy folded his arms across his chest, letting slip a smug if some-what pained smile. It was true, they hadn't been together since before he was suspended, and not through his lack of trying. There was no way he could be the father of the baby.

"Sit down you idiot," Trish commanded, gripping Randy's arm and dragging him back down onto the seat. "What do you mean we haven't made love since before you were suspended? Am I the only one who remembers the heated session during the photoshoot last month?" Trish raised her eyebrows, as the truth dawned on Randy. While he had been suspended, there was that one moment between them when he had acted as the photographer, because he had ruined Trish's previous photoshoot. Regret flooded through him, for insinuating anything of his wife. Trish just shook her head, noting the look on his face. Giggling in her way, Trish simply planted a kiss on his cheek and turned back to Megan.

"Okay, if we're all okay with that," Megan added, clearly relieved that the couple had settled down, "we'll have to book you in with a mid-wife and regular check ups with me…or your own Doctor if you'd prefer. I can organise that for you."

Trish seemed to consider what Megan said, as Randy found he couldn't' suppress the giant grin on his face. He was going to be a father. "Actually Doctor Carey…Megan…I'd really like it if you'd be my Doctor for this. Is that okay?" Trish wasn't sure why she said it, but it just seemed to feel right.

"Of course it is," she beamed, "I'll go have a chat with our mid-wife nursing team and get all the details sorted. I'll leave you guys alone for a while, to take in the happy news. Feel free to stay in here as long as you need." With a smile, Megan gathered her notes, exiting the room to leave Randy and Trish alone.

No sooner had the door closed than had Randy grabbed Trish around the waist, hauling her body close to his, burning their lips together in a series of frenzied, passionate kisses. Trish returned with full force, entangling her hands through Randy's hair. Pulling back, Randy grinned, trailing a line of kisses down Trish's throat and chest, down to her stomach.

"Hi baby," Randy cooed, stroking his fingertips over the soft expanse of flesh," I'm your Daddy. Hi there." Randy grinned, kissing on Trish's stomach. The expecting mother couldn't help but giggle at the sight of Randy acting so soft and loving towards her stomach. Reaching down, she stroked her fingers through his hair, as he continued to fawn over her stomach.

Trish sighed. After all the stress and worry, she knew what was going on with her body. She was pregnant, married to the man of her dreams. It was a true fairytale. As Randy had said, they would get through this together, as a family. And if nothing else, this was going to be an interesting nine months…


	10. Just Enjoy The Night

**_A/N: _Finally! Update time! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update this story (check out my profile for an explanation.) Okay, so this chapter was never supposed to be at all. But I figured I'd give my loyal readers a short bit of fluffy happiness between Randy and Trish, a bit a of a throw-back to the couple they used to be before everything got so serious with marriage and babies. The drama will come in the next chapter! As ever, I disclaim! Please Read and Review!!**

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"Baby, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Randy's voice was barely audible over the thudding baseline pumping from the speakers at the front of the dance floor, but she heard every word. Turning back on her heel, Trish flashed her husband the brightest smile he had seen in a long time. It only took a second, but any reservations he had melted away in a heartbeat. They were replaced with a burning lust, igniting to it fullest in Randy's stomach as he gave her the once over.

Randy seemingly adored his wife's taste in clothes. She had an innate knack to pick the garments that accentuated her body to perfection. With the pulsating light from the depths of the club haloing behind, Randy's eyes travelled the length of her body. Her legs were melted into a pair of black leather pants, the waist being so low it almost caused Randy to blush, as he knew very well what was hiding just below the hem line. Her beautiful chest was near exploding out of the halter top she was dressed in, the neckline of which plunged down to her midriff, exposing the delicious valley between her breasts.

With her hair coming down in natural honey-blonde waves around her head, her entire form seemed to halo's by the waves of golden blonde. Grinning seductively at her husband, Trish scurried back towards him, crashing into his waiting in arms. Her lips tasted the flesh of his neck, working their way up to his ear. With every word she spoke, the soft pout of her lips caressed the shell of Orton's ear, sending waves of pleasure-filled shivers around his body.

"It's fine baby. Let's just have some fun okay? I'm pretty sure we both deserve some!" Giggling in abandon, Trish turned and dashed back into the club, heading towards the dance floor where Melina, Lisa and Mickie were already gathered, in the throws of dancing to the song pumping from the sound system of the club. Trish joined the other women, getting straight into shaking the round of her backside in perfect timing to the beat of the song. Shaking his head, Randy grinned after his wife. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his designer jeans, he headed to the bar to join Batista and Kenny, who were both already ordering drinks. Several other superstars were already in the club, milling around in the seats at the back.

Leaning against the bar, Randy released a breath he hadn't realised he hadn't been holding. After all the stress that had been the past few weeks, it felt good to be out with his friends. Indeed, not since Trish had left the company had they all been together at the same place at the same time. And after all their recent troubles, it seemed the perfect remedy to all their problems.

Even if no-one knew Trish was pregnant.

The blonde Canadian had been adamant about that from the beginning. The parents-to-be had driven back to their hotel room in silence, each in their own way processing the news that they were going to have a baby. It hadn't been until they had gotten back to their hotel, had the couple seemingly come back life. It was then Trish had made the decree that no-one was to know she was expecting.

It wasn't that she didn't want anyone to know - far from it. She was positively bubbling with news, so much so she was certain she would burst with excitement unless she told someone. However, Trish was realist. She knew very well, most first time mothers were a third more likely to miscarry in their first pregnancy. Added to that twisted fact, it was most likely to occur in the first three months, when the foetus was still developing. The last thing Trish wanted was to jinx her pregnancy so by telling everyone she was expecting. It would be hard enough to deal with her own despair if something did go wrong, to say nothing about what would be felt by her family and friends.

Trish was certain, until she had passed that three month mark, no-one would know anything. Of course, that didn't mean that the expecting parents weren't going to celebrate the news. Trish had called practically everyone she could think of to organise an evening of clubbing in the city. As far as their friends knew, they were belatedly celebrating Trish's return to the company. But Trish and Randy knew the truth. They were going to celebrate becoming parents, even if it was a secret between the two of them.

_I'm going to be a father._

Even now, the words didn't seem to fit with Randy. Of course, his greatest wish was to start a family with Trish, to have beautiful babies with his wife, and raise a family back home in St. Louis. He just hadn't imagined it coming upon him so quickly. He had always thought he would have a few more years before to go before Trish became pregnant. Not that it mattered. She was going to have his child, and Randy could barely contain the emotions bubbling deeply inside his child. For once in his life, everything seemed like it was falling into place.

Letting his gaze drift from the bar to his wife, Randy allowed himself a moment to feel content with his life. Things were good. The sharp hand on the back brought him back to his senses, and the Legend Killer turned to see the grinning face of his long time friend, Dave Batista.

"Orton you slut, it's about fucking time you came out and partied with us! Where've you been these past couple of months man?" Batista grinned wildly, his eyes feasting of the displays of flesh scurrying around the club. Despite his reputation, Batista had the utmost respect for the fairer sex, and was more choosey than most when it came to women.

"Life's been hectic man," Randy admitted, gripping Batista's hand to shake it, "but my girl's back on the road with me. Seemed like a good idea to come out with you guys again." Grinning, Randy motioned to the bartender, ordering himself a bottle of beer.

"Well, we're glad to have you back with us man," Batista noted, "and I'm sure as hell glad you brought Mrs. Orton out with you. She is looking fine Randy. Whenever she gets tired of ridin' your two inch tickler, you said her my way. I guarantee she'll be Stratusfied." Batista chuckled as Orton playfully punched the older man on the arm. He knew his friend was joking, and shook his head as he laughed.

In truth, David Batista had always harboured a slight crush for the stunning Canadian, but he had never done anything to act on it. There was a time, earlier on in his tenure with the WWE that he had entertained the idea of going after Trish, but it was clear from the start that Ms. Stratus had captured the rookie Randy's heart. He remembered endless late night conversations in tiny hotel rooms, when Randy would ramble on and on how Trish would be his future wife, and that they would make beautiful babies together. A slight smile crossed his lips as one particular day, travelling in a dilapidated rental car, was spent with Orton planning their wedding. It seemed the Legend Killer had gotten his wish. Trish was his wife now. And Batista was more than happy for his friends.

Still, that didn't mean he wouldn't steal a look at the Canadian beauty every now and again, especially as she walking towards him, her shapely hips winding with every beat of the music.

Randy was clearly oblivious to Trish presence. Accepting his beer from the bartender, he lifted the bottle to his lips. Just as he was about to take a sip, Trish's hand gripped the base of the bottle, wrenching it free of Randy's grip. With a deliberate thud, she placed it down on the bar top, as her other reached to grip the back of Randy's neck. Pulling his head closer to hers, she tilted her own so her lips rested next to Orton's ear. Her voice came as a teasing whisper as she spoke.

"Don't even think about Randall. If I'm tee-total for the next nine months, so are you baby boy." Giggling softly as Randy pulled back, the orbs of his crystal blue eyes expression disbelief at Trish's words. She couldn't possible be serious…could she?

Groaning, Randy allowed himself to be led away from the bar towards the crowds building on the dance floor, Trish offering a small wave to Batista as they made their exit. Making their way to the centre of the dance floor, Trish found her natural place between Randy's arms, her back resting up against the contours of his chiselled torso. Much to the envy of pretty much everyone around him, Randy really didn't have to move all that much as Trish began to grind her hips, bending her knees to dip downwards, before winding her body back up again, using Randy's body as a kind of frame to lean against.

Carefully, Randy eased his arms around the tiny waist of his wife, bending forward so his chin rested on her shoulder. His lips teased their way over Trish neck, bringing a flush of colour all of a sudden into her cheeks. "I'm really glad you're here Trish. I've missed being with you."

"I know, I've missed you. Having a two separate careers is just…I don't know. I'm so used to being with you everyday, going weeks on end without seeing you is just getting too hard for me now. Maybe I should think about winding down my work with the clothing company." Turning in Randy's arm, Trish rested her chin on the muscles in Randy's chest, making definite eye contact.

"I'm not going to lie and say that I don't want you to, because we both know I do," Randy admitted with a trade mark grin plastered across his lips, "but as your husband, I'm telling you, you can't do that. I'm not just going to let you give up everything you've worked for. I still don't know why you accepted the position of General Manager anyway. It's not as if you can design and run Monday night's is it?"

"Do we have to do this now?" Trish eyes were pleading as they glittered in the dim lighting. It was the closet the pair had been for an extended period of time since Trish left the company the first time. The last thing she wanted now was to descend into fight about they why's and wherefores of her involvement with the company. "I promise you Randy, I will explain everything when we get back to the hotel. But for now, can we just enjoy the night?"

Randy nodded, capturing his wife's lips into a tender kiss. She was right, as usual. There was no point in getting into a fight when it would spoil one of the first night's they'd had together, and just with each other, but with their friends. "Alright, but we will talk later." If Randy was being honest, there were a few things he wouldn't mind getting off his chest as well.

"Okay, good." Trish grinned, her smile bubbly and infectious. "I think, when the baby gets here, I'm going to stop working, at least until the baby's older. I want to stay at home and be a Mom, y'know?"

Randy softly nodded his head as he gazed into his wife's eyes. "I'll talk to Vince…see if maybe I can lessen my schedule for a while…just Monday Nights and Pay Per Views…at least until the baby is a little older. It won't be fair to just let you do everything yourself."

Trish could help but giggle, squeezing Randy's body closer to hers. "Listen to us, already sounding like concerned parents. I know this wasn't the best timing for either of us," Trish noted her own observation, "but I am so happy Randy. I can't wait to have our baby."

Randy returned Trish's smile, leaning forward to he could plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. "We're going to make this work Trish, I promise. No matter what happens from here on out, we're in this together. I swear I will do everything I can to make you and the baby happy. I just can't believe it's finally happening. Everything I ever wanted out of life is coming all at once. I've got the most beautiful woman in the world by my side, and she going to have our child. It's like -…"

Randy's voice quietened as Trish crushed her lips against his. Their lips melted together in a sizzling kiss, causing Trish to moan softly at the feeling of Randy's hands on her lower back. So many words were going unspoken, but they honestly didn't need to be said.

For the time being at least, Randy and Trish were completely at ease with one another. They were together, they were in love and they were expecting a baby. Surely life couldn't get any better than this? Both knew there were problems still to be aired, after all, Trish could no longer put off telling her husband why she had come back to the company, and Randy had never actually explained why he had punched Hunter in the first place. The time for hiding things from one another was over.

The truth would bring their marriage into a harsh, accusing light, the prospect neither one was looking forward to. But that was tonight's problem. For the time being, the unspoken love they shared was all that either needed to hear.


	11. Revelations Part 2

**_A/N: Update._ Okay, so I promised you it was coming. Drama. Please read and review, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter. And I know I said I'd end with this story...but inspiration has hit me for story number four. Would you guys be interested in reading another story involving these two, following on from the first three...? **

**Anyways, I disclaim. And in case you didn't see it before, please review!**

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"So…I guess we need to talk."

Trish vaguely nodded her head, stepping further into the hotel room she shared with her husband Randy. The faint click of the door closing behind her was the only sound to break the silence that settled between the pair, neither seemingly wanting to be the first to say something.

It was kind of ironic. Silence between them, when there was so much to be said. Turning, she faced her husband, who looked a little more than uncomfortable. Trish knew him well enough to know when something was playing on his mind. Oh there was something he had been keeping from her, she could easily see it, bubbling away in the depths of his crystal blue eyes. It was time to find out what it was.

Taking his larger hand between her own, she led Randy towards the bed. Bending one knee, Trish sat back, resting on her leg. Randy joined her, easing himself into perching on the edge of the bed next to his wife. Their gazes locked for a moment, each releasing a nervous giggle. Randy glanced down from Trish's large doe brown eyes, finding his own feet suddenly more interesting. Rolling her eyes, Trish realised that she would have to be the one to begin things, or they would probably be sat here in silence for the rest of the evening.

"So I guess I'll be the one going first," Randy immediately glanced up, relief in his eyes and goofy smile plastered across his face, "Alright, I admit it. There's something that I haven't told you. And you will hit the red zone when you find out what it is. But you have to promise me you will let me get this out before you do. Promise me Orton."

Randy could help but grin at the sceptical tone in Randy's voice. "I promise." Holding up his hand as a sign of compliance, Randy nervously licked his lips. Trish had been up front about keeping something from him, and she knew it wasn't something he was going to like. Forcing large gulps of air in and out of his lungs, Randy did his very best to maintain a stable, calm front. In reality, he seriously wanted to punch a hole through the wall…and he hadn't even heard anything yet.

"Okay. So, you know I came back to the company to be the RAW General Manager?" Randy nodded, already feeling his blood boiling in his veins. The words _'I knew it' _suddenly didn't seem to cover everything he felt. Trish seemed to sense this, her hand tracing the pattern of circles across the sheets covering the bed. "My return may not have been because of the reasons I specified at the time. You might say, I kind of extended the truth…just a little."

Flashing Randy one of her best 'diva' smiles, albeit it nervously, it was clear he wasn't going to be distracted by it, not even for a second. "Trish?" The tone in Randy's voice was vaguely demanding, especially as he drew out the vowel in her name. Mrs. Orton knew better than to keep her husband waiting.

"Alright, alright. You remember that day I launched Euphoria? Well Shane was there. He offered me the job as RAW GM, under the condition that if I didn't accept…you would be fired." Trish winced instinctively, expecting Randy to blow up right here and now in front of her. As if it could be worse, he remained silent, seemingly processing Trish's revelation.

"He said that?" Randy's voice was eerily calm, making Trish entirely uncomfortable.

"Not in so many words," Trish clarified, a hurried tone in her voice, "he tried to fill me with some crap about making you the best you could be. But he made it perfectly clear that if I didn't agree to coming back to the company, your career would be the price."

"And you agreed to this, without talking to me about it?" There was the anger Trish was expecting. Randy's already towering 6ft 4 frame seemed to grow even bigger in front of her.

"What was I supposed to do? Say no and let you get fired? Besides, it's not as though you didn't need my help." Wrong words Trish. But there was no way to stop them leaving her lips. It a hysterically awful way, the words seemed to float like bubble writing from between Trish's lips, and popped around Orton's ears. Randy's face dropped into an intense scowl, causing Trish to prepare for some kind of retaliation.

"I needed your help? What, you're saying I can't do my job unless you're there to baby sit me. Is that it?" Randy stood up from the bed, getting ready to pace around the room. But Trish refused to let him have it his own way. She stood up right next to him, gripping his arm to make him turn and face her.

"You know that's not what I meant. I just thought that I could help you get back on track is all. You were a little lost for a while. I just wanted to help." The defeated tone crept into voice a lot easier than she wished it would have, but it was there now. And it had no effect on Randy.

"You just have no clue do you?" Randy's incredulous tone was matched by the glare in his eyes, "you stand there telling me how you were trying to make it all better, when you were the very reason things sucked in the first place."

"What does that mean?" If Randy was trying to bring out the fire in her, he had certainly achieved. Her hands found their usual position as her chest stuck out, inflated with a gulp of air into her lungs. The indignant pout on her face was enough to tell Orton that he was pushing his luck.

"I was somebody in that company Trish. Before you and I started dating, I had a reputation. I was respected and people wanted to be associated with me. I was gonna be World fuckin' Champion for god's sake. But as soon as you and I became a thing, my name was a joke and I was relegated to bitch status. I was just seen as riding your coat tails. I was Mr. Trish fuckin' Stratus. I constantly had to defend myself and my reputation, not to mention yours. And after you left, it got even harder. I had no respect backstage, I had to put up with constant put downs and ridicules from the veterans, not to mention smacking the crap out of the boys who trashed you. Everyone went on about how I only 'made good' because I married you." Trish had clearly touched a nerve. And she wasn't prepared to stop.

"How the hell is that my fault? Can I help it if I'm a bigger star than you are? What is so wrong in taking a backseat to me? Why should it be the other way around?" Randy clearly wasn't going to answer, so Trish pushed on. "This has nothing to do with me, and all to do with your stupid ego. Yes, you had a reputation in the company before us. As a fucking whore. You got respect because you rode your way through every single diva in the freaking locker room, not because you were some asset to the company."

"What the fuck? I'm one of the best guys that company has got. Everyone knows it. I can wrestle any fucker in that locker room and make it the greatest match in the history of the WWE." Randy ignored Trish rolling her eyes, and continued on. "And excuse me if I got my reputation for being with women. It just meant every guy wanted to be me, and all the girls wanted to be with me. You're jealous, as usual. Why can't you just get over what I did before we got together? It's not like I cheated on you."

"My jealousy?" She shrieked, eyes bulging to bursting point. "Have you lost your fuckin' mind Orton? Jealous? Why the hell would be I jealous that you banged every girl with a pulse? It makes me sick to my stomach. God, you really are something else!"

"That's rich coming from the woman who claims to love me, yet can so easily lie to my face. And bulletin, you're not exactly above sleeping with wrestlers, are you? No, not the almighty Trish Stratus, who once again sticks her nose into my career where it doesn't belong. You think because you won some crappy Women's Title that it makes you qualified to give other people career support? I don't need or want your help Trish. I don't want my career to be based on being with you. I'm better than that. You should never have taken that job as General Manager. You're just making things worse for me." Randy's eyes were narrowed into a glare, as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Are you insane? If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have a career right now! You'd be in the unemployment line, or worse, working for TNA. I tried to help you and this is the thanks I get? You ungrateful asshole." Throwing her hands in the air, Trish turned on her heel, stomping across the room towards the window.

"Get off your high horse Trish. I didn't need you help. If you would have discussed this with me before you jumped right into my business, I would have told you not to waste your time. But you couldn't do that. You're too much of a control freak. You need to be in a position to dictate my career to me. Can't you just for once, butt out? Not everything is supposed to be about you." Randy sounded as though he were pleading with Trish. Not that she cared.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Trish was reaching boiling point, and couldn't hold herself back for much longer. "You have an attitude problem, and it's some how my fault? Newsflash Randy. All the bullshit you deal with, you bring on yourself. You strut around backstage like you're something special and all you do is piss people off with your cocky attitude and smart mouth. You don't know half the crap I had to put up with when people found out we were together. So don't whine to me how being in this marriage has been detrimental to your career. You've never needed my help to be an asshole or a joke. You've achieved that perfectly on your own."

"How can someone so fucking neurotic be so high and mighty? An asshole I may be, but I still followed you around like an idiot. When you went on your suicide mission against Vince, I stood by you every single step of the way. I supported you day in and day out. And never once did I ask you to do something for me. It was all about you. As per fucking usual." Pouting his lips, Randy released a frustrated sigh.

"I gave up everything for you!" Trish was practically screaming, but she was easily past the point of caring. "I left that company and built a life and career for myself. But I chose you over my dreams. I chose your happiness over my own dammit! So don't you dare stand there and tell me how you gave up so much for me."

"Don't try and make me feel guilty Stratus," Randy's voice hissed with venom. He never called Trish by her maiden name unless they were seriously fighting. And this obviously was such a time. "I didn't ask you to give anything up for me. You did that on your own. And I don't believe for a second you did it for me as some act of loving sacrifice. You just did it so you could have something else to hold over me, to put me back in my place as Mr. Stratus. Maybe now you've got a taste of what it's like to be miserable, and see how difficult it's been for me."

"Then why the hell did you marry me?" She was near tears, but Trish didn't care. If they were going to get everything out in the open, this was the obvious question. "I'm serious Randy. If life was so much better for you before we started dating, why did you ask me to marry you? Why did you condemn yourself to a life of this control freak?"

"Because…because I love you Trish. God help me." Randy shook his head. How could she ask him this? Why else would he have married her? Was Trish serious?

"Why do you love me?" _I won't cry. He will not see me cry. _Clenching her fists at her sides, Trish refused to allow herself to give into the heartbreaking emotions swelling in her chest.

"What?" Randy appeared genuinely confused.

"Why do you love me? If I've made your life so miserable, how could you possible love me?" Randy's mouth opened to go slack at Trish's words. It dawned on him he had gone too far. He had been too harsh and now he would have to deal with the consequences, no matter how angry he was.

"Trish…that's a stupid question. You know I love you." Randy looked into Trish's eyes, the soft chocolate brown orbs were brimming with tears. Tears caused by him. However guilty he felt, he was not going to be emotionally blackmailed by Trish.

"But why? I need to know _why_ you love me." Trish was more serious than she had ever been in her life. After everything Randy had just admitted, how could he be possibly love her? He was far from forth coming with his answer. "You can't answer me can you? That's more than I need to know. This is serious Randy. I'm supposed to be bringing your child into this world, and you can't even tell me why you love me." Trish couldn't believe the words coming from her mouth. " I think you should go."

Turning her back to Randy, Trish lowered herself onto the bed. How had this happened? Had all these issues been burning inside for so long? Could she and Randy have been burying all these problems for so long that they had started to taint their love for one another? Trish couldn't think. Being this close to Randy was confusing. She needed clarity. And space.

"I'm not leaving the room Trish." Perhaps stubbornness wasn't the way to go right now, but Randy refused to be dictated to by Trish. Shouldn't they be talking this through? He might not be well versed in dealing with emotions, but he knew when it was right to talk about things. And this was one of those times.

"Fine," Trish sighed softly, "I'll go."

Without another word, Trish got up from the bed and headed straight for the door. Not even turning around to look at her husband, Trish slide out through the door, pulling it to a definite close behind her. _Why didn't I stop her? Why aren't I going after her?_

_Maybe because I don't want to. _

Running his hands back through his hair, Randy released an aggravated growl. What should have been an honest talk had turned into an insult match between them. More than likely, Randy knew it was his fault. And now Trish had walked out leaving him very much alone. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if she would come back.

And if she was going to…was he going to let her back in?


	12. I Just Don't Know How To Show You

**A/N: Update. Creative Trish/Randy groove at the moment. Another chapter I've been itching to write. I really hope you guys like. Thank you all so much for the reviews. It means a lot that you guys are still with me and enjoying this story. We've been together a while !! As ever, I disclaim. Lyrics are from 'I Luv U' by the Ordinary Boys. Please Read and Review! As ever, e-mail me, because FF is still not talking to me!!**

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"You know beautiful, I'm pretty sure there were patterns on the inside of that cup before you had it. You wanna back away from the spoon and tell me what's up?"

Glancing up from her over-stirred and entirely cold coffee, Trish offered the best smile she was capable of. Considering her puffy red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, it wasn't the most attractive of looks, not that Trish cared. It was typical. Even in some flea infested, god forsaken diner on the backstreet of nowhere, someone would find her looking like a complete mess. And it would have to be him, wouldn't it?

"I'm not up for talking right now Dave. So if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you'd -…" Trish had already started to push the presence of Dave Batista away when he spoke up.

"That's cool," he grinned coolly, "I'm not much of a talker. We can just sit here in glum silence." Opening her mouth to object, Trish realised it was already too late as Batista eased himself into the seat opposite her. Clasping his hands together, he rested his chin on them, never taking his eyes off Trish. She found this all together too uncomfortable, doing her best to avoid eye contact.

"You want to take a picture there?" Nervously laughing, Trish shot him a weak look. Why is it whenever you want to be alone, people insist on being around you? They always think they are helping, but it made Trish feel like she needed to be who everyone expected her to be. All singing, all dancing ass-kicking blonde bombshell. Right now she felt deflated, ugly, nauseous and maybe just a little bit fat. Just for once, couldn't she get what she wanted? Couldn't she be left alone?

"You don't want me to look at you. Okay." Subtly shifting position in his seat, David Batista turned his head, so that he was now facing in a different direction, eyes to the wall. Rolling her eyes, Trish went back to stirring her coffee, pretending not to be disgusted with the milk forming on the top of the liquid. She had left the drink so long, the two components were starting to separate. Carefully, Batista shot out a glance out of the corner of his eyes, looking at the bemused Trish. With a wistful sigh, he broke the silence between the pair. "I'm having so much fun right now. We should do this more often."

The smile twitched at the corners of Trish's mouth. Unable to hold it back any longer, she released a soft giggle, attempting to cover her laughter by placing her hand in front of her mouth. Assured he was getting some where, Dave turned back to face Trish. "Is that a laugh? Is Trish 'The Misery' Orton actually smiling?"

"Shove it Batista. I'm trying to scowl over here. And I can't do it if you're making me laugh." Giggling, Trish pushed the cold coffee away from her, relaxing her hands across her stomach.

"What's that jack-off of a husband done this time Trish?" Batista sounded concerned, his eyes probing into Trish's chocolate depths. "He's done or said something. There's no way you'd be here, in this ugly ass diner by yourself if he hadn't."

"How do you know Randy did something? Maybe it was me who the thing…" Trish stopped mid sentence, clearly confusing herself at her own words. Dave chuckled softly. Reaching across the table, he took Trish's slender hand between his own, planting a brief kiss on her knuckles.

"Because I know you beautiful, and you only ever hide out in places like this when he's done something to upset you." Dave looked satisfied with his explanation, causing Trish to arch and eyebrow.

"And how did you know he'd upset me?" Trish's expression was quizzical, causing Dave to grin. The smile stretched easily across his lips as he relaxed back into his chair.

"I stopped by your room earlier, and he told me to fuck off. I guessed you two had had some kind of fight. He only kicks and stomps like a fuckin' fairy when he knows he's in the wrong but won't admit it." Chuckling at his own description of Randy Orton, Batista finished his explanation, "Once I knew he'd put his foot in it, I just had to find the nastiest diner I could find, and there you would be."

"Clever. You know me too well bruiser." Trish smiled at the affectionate nickname she had given Batista so many years ago. She had met him when he had first joined under the wasted gimmick as 'Deacon Batista'. They pair had become fast friends. He was actually the reason why Trish had gotten to know Randy.

"Actually, I found a nastier place than this a few blocks away. Guess you're getting soft in your old age Trish. So, you want to tell me what's wrong?" Trish often confided in Dave when she had things on her mind. He was a great listener, and gave honest an impartial advice. But her problem involved Randy, Dave's best friend. It would make thins awkward for Trish to discuss it with him.

"Just marriage stuff," Trish admitted, "we got into a fight…I really don't even know why, and stuff just came out that I didn't mean to. It must have been bubbling under the surface, and now it's out there. And I can't take it back."

"Do you want to take it back?" Trish didn't know if Dave was mildly retarded, but that was quite easily the stupidest question she had heard since Jessica Simpson pondered if 'Chicken of the Sea' was actually chicken.

"Of course I want to take it back. I was hurtful bitch." Shaking her head, Trish ran her fingers back through her hair. It was a tangled mess, layered with products and hairspray because of her night of partying. The good mood she had shared with Randy felt like a lifetime ago. She couldn't feel much past the fight they had had.

"No. That's not what I meant," Batista explained, "Yeah, you wish you hadn't upset him, but you were just being honest. Surely it's better to tell Randy what pisses you off, instead of keeping it bottled up inside. I know he prefers it when I tell him when he's being dick. Maybe you just needed to get some shit of your chest, y'know?"

"I guess, yeah," Trish agreed. Raising her head to eye line with Batista, she couldn't help the mocking tone creeping into her voice. "Since when did you get to be so wise David?"

"Two failed marriages baby," he admitted sadly, "you learn a lot about yourself, and love, when you go through a divorce. I think its better this way, I'm out of their lives, but it doesn't mean I didn't love those two women to death. And I know it's my fault that we're not together. Still, all you can do is learn from your mistakes, and share your experience with others."

"I'm sorry," Trish offered, "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

"Don't apologise Trish. You didn't make me think of anything I don't carry around with me everyday of my life. But if I can use my own past to help you out, then I'll do whatever." Batista smiled softly, squeezing Trish's hand in his own.

"I just don't understand why this marriage has gotten to be so hard," Trish admitted, feeling tears pooling at the back of her eyes, "I don't know what changed after we said those vows. All that's changed is that we have gold bands around our fingers. How can that change what people feel for one another, or cause big blow outs like tonight?"

"You guys haven't had the easiest of relationships. You've had your fair share of battles and hardships, but you've always made it through, and you've come out stronger than before. I know you'll do the same again." Batista was doing his best to assure Trish, but it wasn't having much effect.

"I sometimes wonder if we made a mistake." Trish honestly couldn't believe what she was saying, but nevertheless it was coming out of her mouth. "We got so wrapped up in loving each other, we weren't practical about being married. What if we aren't compatible? We're both pig-headed and stubborn, not to mention attention seeking drama queens. What if love isn't enough to counter all that? This shouldn't be so hard."

"Trish, you need to grow up a little." Trish narrowed her eyes at Dave's words. Was this idea of helping? "Marriages are work. Sometimes, you wanna love each other till your heart bursts. Other times you want to fuck till you can't stand anymore. And there are times when you want to stab each other in the face. It's normal, and it's natural. Two independent people are becoming one. It's hard, and there are difficulties to face, compromising being one of them. But if you're not prepared to work through the bad, then you don't deserve the bliss that comes from sharing you life with someone."

Trish seemed to consider Batista's words for a second, really taking them to heart. "My life with Randy isn't turning out like I expected it to, and that scares me. But I know I love him more than anything else in the world. I just feel like I'm holding onto him so tight…but he just never lets me all the way in. There's always some kind of armour up protecting his heart. I don't know if he doesn't trust me, or if he just doesn't want to share everything, but we're not what we're supposed to be."

"Trish…" Batista could see where she was going with her reasoning, but she pushed on, effectively cutting him off.

"…No, maybe this it. Maybe it's me. Am I bad wife? I've got to be failing in some way, and he just hasn't got the heart to tell me. He can't even tell me why he loves me. It's all my fault…" Voice catching inside her throat, Trish dipped her head, sobbing gently against the back of her hand. Batista was there in a second, wrapping her into a tender embrace. Her head found his powerful chest, releasing the heartache into the wall of muscle.

"Don't think like that Trish. Randy is the luckiest guy in the world. Everyone knows how deeply he loves you. Sure, he may not say it often enough, but he does. You are his entire world…he just doesn't know how to show it. Emotions aren't his thing. He just clams up and loses himself. But it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it, or want to express it." Batista planted a brief kiss on the crown of Trish's head. Seeing her in such torment pulled at the strings of her heart. How could she doubt herself? She was the most perfect woman in the world. And Randy was an asshole for not telling her it. Resolving to have a talk with the 'Legend Killer' about his emotional constipation, Batista gently pulled back from Trish, cupping her face in his hands.

"Do you know what he said to me once? It was back when you guys had just gotten married." Trish shook her head, brushing at the tears tumbling down her cheeks. "He said he couldn't believe that you chose him. Out everyone you could be with, you chose to be with him. He felt like he didn't deserve your love, that you were the most precious thing in the world, and he would do anything to make you happy. Every time he saw you crying, he just wanted to change the entire world so that you wouldn't be sad anymore."

"But why can't he tell me that? Why is he always professing his love to you instead of me?" Sniffing slightly, Trish eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Well we are having an affair Y'know. If he told you how much he loved me, I'd have to stop being the mistress, and I love it too much." Grinning at Trish's giggle, Batista traced the smooth round of her cheek, catching a tear. "Seriously Trish? What guy can tell the woman he loves his feelings? I think we're genetically unable to. Besides which, you're Trish fuckin' Stratus. It would be intimidating for any guy to tell the most beautiful woman in the world how much he loves her."

Trish smiled softly, the hint of a blush creeping into her cheeks. "He loves you Trish. He may not say it, but you feel it, I know you do. Just give him a chance to show it, okay?"

Nodding softly, Trish relaxed back into Batista's embrace. "I'd like to see my husband now."

Nodding softly, Batista pulled her petit form closer. "I'll take you too him."

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For the eighth time in as many minutes, Randy screwed up the paper beneath him into ball. Wrenching his arm back, he heaved the tight ball across the room so that it impacted against the far wall. He was creating quite a little collection.

Dropping the pen from his free hand, he reached for his phone. Hitting the first speed dial code on his phone, it automatically dialled the number of his wife. Holding the receiver, Randy silent begged her to pick up. He would do or say anything right now to her to come back home. If he could just hold Trish in his arms, he knew he could make things right.

Not that Randy felt like he deserved the chance. He'd been a dickhead to the most important person in his life. He'd let his stupid, childish temper fire up his ego and said things he didn't really mean. Maybe in selfish, ugly moments he was resentful moments, he felt jealous of his wife. But not the extreme of which he had gone at her earlier tonight.

Randy felt his heart sink to his toes, as he heard his own theme music blaring out in the background. Turning his head, he noted with dismay at Trish's phone, skidding it's way across the bedside table as it vibrated, playing Randy's own them music, as if it were mocking him. Snapping his phone shut, Randy sighed. What was he going to do?

_I'm going to find my wife. _

Stepping up from his seat, Randy reached for a near by t-shirt. Dressed in a pair of sweat pants, he couldn't really go traipsing the streets dressed like this.

The gentle rap at the door stopped him. Dropping the t-shirt to the floor, Randy carefully made his way across the room. Exhaling softly, he gripped then golden door knob in his hands. With a twitch of his wrist, he turned it to the side, and pulled the door open. His eyes widened softly, a cold feeling of guilt gripping at his throat.

"Trish…I…" She looked so small and vulnerable. Her hair hung loosely around her face, as she rested her weight on one leg, nervously chewing her bottom lip. Her eyes looked red and swollen, clearly from crying. _Crying because of me. Jackass! _"…Trish I need you to come inside."

Reaching his hand to his wife, Randy felt his heart flutter as she accepted it. Interlocking her fingers with his, a second past before she was wrapped in Randy's arm. He held her so tightly that he was certain he would crush her rib cage. But he didn't care. He needed her close right now. Just to feel her skin against his, the smell of her hair, the touch of her hands, the sweetness of lips. Her voice was a mere whisper, but Randy heard her.

"Randy, I'm sorry. I am so sorry…" Randy immediately covered Trish's mouth with her own, burning his lips against hers in the most breath taking kiss she had ever received.

"Don't say anymore. You don't have to be sorry about anything. Can you to listen to something? Just…just sit on the bed…yeah sit there…and listen…" Clearly nervous, Randy guided Trish to the bed, sitting her down gently. Touching his lips to hers for a second, he reached across to the dresser standing below the window. Gripping a crumpled sheet of paper, Randy cleared his throat.

Trish smiled gently at the sight. He looked like a fourth grade kid about to refit his first creative writing assignment. And that pretty much described how Randy felt.

"I'm not gonna to patronise you. I've been trying to write down why I like you. It doesn't make it any better, to just steal kind words off Phil Spector . And I know all these tired clichés, but I don't know which cliché to say, because clichés don't have any impact, so I guess I will be matter-of-fact." Glancing up from his sheet of writing, Randy grinned slightly at the smile on Trish's beautiful lips.

"It's so good to know you. I just don't know how to show you. I'm so sorry that I'm losing, when other boys would leave you swooning. When I finally get my words together, I choke and they are gone forever. But words are words and they mean nothing. Surely I love you counts for something? So let's be hasty, and let's be reckless. Just being with you leaves me breathless." Looking up again, Randy blushed at the tear rolling it's way down Trish's cheek.

Stepping forward, Orton dropped to one knee in front of his wife. "It's so good to know you. I just don't know how to show you. I love you, you know that, don't you? I love you…" Orton stopped, folding the paper in half, and carefully placed it on the bed next to Trish. Tilting his head slightly, Randy was honestly puzzled by the look on his wife's face. "…What? Was my poem that bad?"

Shaking her head softly, Trish framed Randy's head with her hands. "No. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever…I just…" Feeling lost for words, Trish suddenly had some clue how tough it could be for Randy. "…I just fell in love with you again is all."

Randy grinned, raining kisses over Trish's face and lips. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Trish pulled her husband down on top of her, running her hands over the taut muscles in his back.

As always, there was more for them to talk about. Explanations and apologies would have to be made. But they could wait until tomorrow. Right now, Randy and Trish had each other. That was all that mattered.


	13. Randelle Orton?

**_A/N :_ OH MY GOD! I have been without my computer since Friday. Hugs and kisses monitor Slowly driven insane down this end. I've scribbled endless words and chapters on paper that I think I've given myself repetitive strain injury...**

**Anyways, new chapter for your enjoyment. Oh it's getting good. Can anyone say drama...? Good! Because it's coming boys and girls. As ever, I own nothing but would adore some reviews from you lovely, lovely, lovely people.**

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"Trish! Would you get a move on already! We're gonna be late!" Craning his neck around the banister of the stairs, Randy glared upwards to the next floor, a glare firmly etched onto his features. He was not a patient person, by any means, and was currently slowly stewing over the fact his wife was late.

"_I'll be twenty minutes_, she says. Yeah. My ass. And I'll be the next Women's Champion." Puffing his lips in frustration, Randy leant himself against the wall, letting his eyes fall closed. It wasn't as though he was in the most calm mind frame anyway.

Three months into Trish's pregnancy, and they were finally able to share the joyous news amongst their family and friends. Like a child begging his mother for a toy in a supermarket, Randy had seemingly been on count down, his pestering of Trish getting more so each day as the third month approached. Randy had practically burst on more than one occasion, as though their little 'secret' would spill over his lips against his will. Randy had found himself keep his friends and family at a definite distance, not really joining in any conversation or activity at all, for fearing of letting slips on the baby.

His friends had thought he had been acting odd, most of them chocking it up to nerves emerging from his up and coming World Heavyweight Championship match coming at Survivor Series. Randy was comfortable with that - at least for the time being. They could use whatever reasoning they wanted to explain his silence. It kept Randy from having to think up reasons and excuses for his apparent disinterest recently.

But that was all in the past now. His wife was pregnant. And now he could _finally_ tell someone. That was, of course, assuming Trish made it down those stairs before the baby was actually born. "Patricia Orton! Will you please get that tight little ass of yours down these stairs before I -…"

Randy's mouth stopped mid sentence, taking in the vision appearing at the top of the stairs. Dressed in a simple, yet elegant white top, matched with a pair of vintage, boot cut jeans, Trish looked more beautiful that Randy had ever seen her. Every single detail captured Randy's senses, from the way her jeans clung to every curve of her hips, to the delicate white ribbon tied into the wave of honey-blonde hair framing her features. For once in his life, he finally understood why people described a pregnant woman as 'glowing'.

"What?" Trish smirked from the top of the stairs, self-consciously checking out her own appearance due to the scrutiny of her husband. "You don't like it…? I can change, just give me a second…"

"No, Trish," Randy hoped up the stairs, taking two at a time to be at his wife's side. He gently took her in his harms, resting his hands on the curve of the small of Trish's back. "You look so beautiful right now. It just took my breath away a little." Randy grinned sheepishly, feeling blood rushing into his cheeks, bringing with it a soft red hue. Giggling softly, Trish brushed her lips against his, suddenly sending the blood in Randy's body rushing somewhere else…

"You ready to go? I figure we've got ten minutes to get to the Doctors, judging by the way you drive anyway." Taking Randy's hand in her own, Trish led the way down the stairs, heading to the front door of the St. Louis home.

"What does that mean? I drive slowly?" Perplexed, Randy snatched the keys to his car, which were resting near then door.

"No. The opposite. It would take a driver who obeys the driving laws a good thirty minutes. You however…" Trish let her sentence trail off as she stepped down over the threshold of their home. Waving at the woman across the street, who was busily pruning her rose bushes, Trish took a moment to take everything in. Being on the road the majority of the year, Trish often neglected to enjoy the little things in life. Like waving to a neighbour. Trish was home so very rarely the woman probably had no idea who Trish was, and was most likely waving out of curiosity more than anything else.

Chuckling to herself, Trish stepped into the car, allowing Randy to open and close the door for her. He could be the perfect gentleman. At least when he wanted to be. Right now Trish knew he was more excited than a five year old at Christmas, and she couldn't help but find his enthusiasm infectious, if not a little exhausting. He'd practically been bouncing off the ceiling the past three months, unable to hide his enthusiasm. They had spent many long nights discussing in depth their baby, ranging from names to the sex of the baby, stretching as far to what college the baby would attend.

If anything, Trish found the whole experience. She honestly didn't know what to think or feel, as her emotions seemed to change from one moment to the next. She felt a constant state of bliss, knowing that their baby was growing inside her. In some way, she almost felt honoured to be carrying Randy's child. Not that she would ever tell him this of course, but Trish was thankful every single day that she had someone with such a beautiful soul in her life. Sure, he messed up from time to time, and his fascination with a PlayStation was bordering on the obsessive, but Trish had never once doubted his love for her. He had stood by her side every single step of their relationship, and this made her sure that no matter what the future had in store for them, Randy would make an amazing father. He clearly already had so much love for the child, he just had six months to wait before he could show it.

The touch of Randy's hand on her own brought Trish out of her musing. Turning to face her husband, she was greeted with an amused, if slightly quizzical expression. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just us. Me and you, as parents." Licking her lips, Trish relaxed back into her seat, watching the cars pass by as they headed towards the centre of town.

"So, what did you decide?" Randy flicked the switch to his CD player, selecting Trish's favourite mix CD from the selection they had. Pushing the disc into the slot, Randy awaited his answer.

"Nothing, really. I just think I have a question." Turning her head, Trish watched Randy's face contort with emotion as he took in what she said.

"Shoot baby girl." _Baby girl_. Smiling gently, Trish honestly couldn't remember the last time Randy had called her that. It had been a long time, that was for sure. It was nice to hear him call her that again.

"I know you're really excited about having a baby," Trish began, giggling at Randy's goofy grin stretching across his lips. Just mentioning the 'b' word brought such smiles to his face, "but…do you ever get…I don't know…scared? Like worried even? Worried that you won't be good enough, as a parent I mean?" Furrowing her brow, Trish felt like her words had come out all wrong, but luckily for her, Randy knew exactly what she meant.

"Every day Trish." He held her gaze with his own. His crystal blue eyes looked seriously into her own chocolate brown orbs, bringing their understanding to an even deeper level. "Sometimes, I get so petrified of being a father, I throw up. I'm really frightened that I won't be good enough, that I won't be able to teach and guide our baby like I'm supposed to. I'm still making mistakes myself, and I'm worried that I won't be able to help Randy Junior grow into a man. Life's full of lessons and stuff, stuff your parents are supposed to teach you. I just don't know if I'm ready to do that. I can barely take care of myself as it is."

Randy chuckled, flashing a disarming grin at Trish. "So what makes you get past al your concerns? I'm really having a rough time with it myself…"

"That's even easier." Randy smiled, interlinking his fingers with Trish. "When I get to those scary moments, I just remember how much I love this baby. And that's all he's really going to need. I may, and in all likelihood will, mess up. Hell, it's what I do best. Well, one of the things I do best…" The simple arching of his eyebrows brought a flush of colour to Trish's cheeks. "But I'm going to love our baby every single day for the rest of my life. I'm going to care and protect Randy Junior with my own life. And he's gonna grow up with two parents who love him like they love each other. I can't think of a better environment for our baby to grow up in Trish."

Leaning across to the driver's seat, Trish planted a kiss on her husband's cheek. "You're right. We're going to be great parents. The baby will be lucky to have a Dad like you. But we're not calling him Randy Junior." Showing mock offensive, Randy gawped at Trish.

"What? Why not? Randy is good, strong name for a boy. I should know." Randy nodded, pouting out his bottom lip.

"It's the height of egomania Randy." Trish giggled, shaking her head, causing waves of blonde hair to dance around her head. "Besides which, what if Randy Junior actually turns out to be a girl?"

"I've got a feeling on this one baby girl," Randy grinned, pulling the car to a stop in the parking space. Removing the keys, he turned to face Trish fully. "We're gonna have a boy Trish, I know it."

"You sound sure." Trish remarked.

"I am. Just as I'm sure that you're gonna fall in love with the idea of naming our baby Randall Keith Orton the second." Chuckling at the roll of Trish's eyes, Randy captured his wife's lips in a tender kiss.

"But what if we have a girl. Are we going to name her Randelle?" Trish chuckled softly, becoming silent as she realised Randy was actually considering calling their baby Randelle should she be a girl.

"Randelle would be a good name for a girl," he decided. "But, I've always liked Stacy. It's a good name, don't you think?" Sniggering at the raised eyebrow on Trish's features, Randy was subjected to a punch, landing directly on his bicep. "C'mon baby girl. We've got about thirty seconds till your appointment with the Doctor, and Megan isn't the kind of girl who strikes me as understanding when it comes to being tardy."

A hurried rush in the Doctor's Surgery later, and Trish found herself flat on her back, her shirt pulled up, as Megan spread cool gel over her stomach. Giggling, Trish stuck out her tongue, trying valiantly not to squirm. "It's so cold!"

Standing near by, Randy chuckled as he watched Megan apply the gel to the round of his wife's stomach. Had Randy been thinking like he normally did, he would have this seen to be one of the most erotic things he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. But, being so exited at the prospect of seeing his baby, he felt like leaping up and down, screaming with excitement.

"Okay parents, here we go." Megan smiled, twisting the monitor to where Trish and Randy could both see the image on the screen. Taking the _ultrasound_ to Trish stomach, she gently placed it the gel, making small circular motions across the area until she found what she was looking for. "Okay, do you guys hear that heartbeat? The low and steady one?" Both nodded as the continually beat of a heart became obvious, pounding in a natural steady rhythm. "That's Mommy's heartbeat. Nice and steady. And this one is the baby's." Moving the ultrasound stick a little to the left, the heartbeat changed to higher, more rapid rhythm. Randy's eyes filled with wonder as Trish remembered she had to breathe. "That's a nice heartbeat. The baby is doing really well. You should be able to make the baby out now. See…there's the little head…and that's an arm…"

Rising on her elbows to get a better view, Trish was left in shocked silence as the image of her baby appeared on the monitor. It was nothing more than an embryo really, but the image was clear. She could make out the varying body parts as Megan listed them off. "I know the sex of your baby, if you guys would like to know." Megan offered, looking from Trish to Randy.

They had never actually discussed this. Trish wanted to wait until the birth, somehow thinking that was the way it should be done. However, if she knew Randy Orton at all, he would want to know right now. "We'll wait until the baby is born." Randy grinned.

Trish was right. Randy desperately wanted it confirmed that his wife was having a little boy. But as much as she knew him, he knew her equally as well. And Randy knew that Trish would want to wait to find out the sex of the baby, and this was something on which he would respect her wishes.

"Okay guys, not problem. But I'm happy to tell you guys, mother and child are doing very, very well. The baby is growing nicely, and is perfectly healthy. It should be a good pregnancy by the looks of things. How's our Mommy doing…? Trish…?" Megan turned back from the chart attached to the clipboard to see why Mrs. Orton hadn't responded.

Both of Trish's chocolate brown eyes were fixed on the monitor, a single tear tumbling down over her cheek. "I'm sorry…" she smiled, wiping the tear over off her cheek. "…I wasn't expecting to feel this emotional."

"One of the joy of pregnancy Trish. Don't count emotional balance for the next six months. Your hormones are all over the place right now. I think Randy's going to have to prepare for a few screaming matches," Megan chuckled as Randy held up his hands in mock defeat. "How are you coping anyway? Any symptoms yet?"

"Nausea." Trish admitted. "It got really bad to beginning with. It's calmed down a lot, just restricting itself to the morning and the evening. And I tend to get these fainting spells every once in a while."

"The nausea should hopefully begin to ease off now as we enter these next three months. And I hope you've enjoyed that gorgeous waistline Trish, but you're going to have to say goodbye to that for a while." Megan smiled as Trish giggled softly. "The fainting, well it's not exactly a common symptom of pregnancy, but I see it fairly regularly."

"Is it dangerous to her, or the baby?" Randy wondered, voicing his thoughts for the room. It was all well and good to say it was regular symptom, that didn't mean it couldn't have detrimental effects to Trish or their child.

"I wouldn't be too concerned, it does happen in a lot of women, and Trish and the baby are in perfect health. It's just your body getting used to all these radical changes in a short space of time Trish, not mention providing for two." Megan explained.

"Is there anything I can do?" Randy honestly felt a bit useless. He found himself feeling somewhat guilty that Trish was having to deal all the pregnancy symptoms by herself, whilst he was continuing life as normal, none the worse for wear.

"Just try and keep her out of stressful situations. And try to make sure she doesn't move about to quickly. Your focus should be to help her remain calm and relaxed as much as possible. Mediation is good to keep yourself balanced." Megan pointed out.

"What about sex? Is that still okay?" Randy asked. It might be a typical 'guy' question, but Randy knew full well that was nothing that could relax Trish more than a bout of intense love making.

"It's actually good for Trish, keeping her body active and functioning as it should. Studies have actually shown clitoral induced orgasms during pregnancy help make the birthing process a lot easier on the mother during labour. I would only say hold off about a month before and after the baby is due to be born. Other than that, you guys can do it as much as you want." Trish giggled as Randy licked his lips in anticipation. He would ride her into oblivion if it helped her during this pregnancy, even if Megan's description hadn't made the process sound particularly enticing.

"Are you eating well Trish?" Megan continued, selecting a leaflet about eating during pregnancy and hading it to the Canadian blonde. "I really want you to focus on vitamin C, and make sure you get plenty of iron in your diet. That will help with the fainting, and I want you to keep a nice, healthy immune system while your baby is developing."

"So I guess the diet is out the window?" Trish offered.

"For the time being, yes." Megan added. "You can eat healthily by all means. But don't cut anything out. You need a good balance of protein, carbohydrate and yes, dairy products to give the baby all the nutrients he or she will need whilst growing. Some fatty foods wouldn't go amiss every once in a while either."

"Oh thank god. Because I've been craving southern fried chicken for about four days now. I usually abhor the stuff…but my yearning as gotten so bad I've even started dreaming about it…" Trish trailed off, lost in her imagination where she was confronted with a naked Randy Orton, carrying a bucket full of greasy fried chicken drumsticks and no napkin.

"Well then, it looks like Randy is taking you out for lunch. I'll get a print of the scan for you. You can sit up now Trish. There are some tissues and antiseptic wipes on the cabinet to your left." Nodding her head, Megan left the room, leaving Randy and Trish alone. Crossing the room, Randy helped Trish to her feet, taking great delight in wiping at the gel left on Trish's stomach. Somehow, his lips found Trish's neck, and they didn't want to be removed.

"Randy," Trish groaned, her hands clawing at his sculpted back muscles, "not here. We have to go…everyone will be waiting…besides, we're in an examination room. Anyone could walk in!"

Grinning, Randy waggled his eyebrows as his fingers skilfully loosened the buttons on her jeans. "I'll lock the door."

* * *

Hurrying into the restaurant, Trish fussed with the buttons to her jeans, before raking her hands back through her hair, trying to flatten it back to looking less ruffled. Why was it that when you had a guilty conscious, you felt like it was obvious to everyone around you what you'd just done?

Pushing all thoughts about their little escape on the examination bed out of her head, Trish's eyes scanned the restaurant. Her gaze fell across a table towards the back, bringing a smile to her face. Dave Batista, Candice Michelle, John Cena, Amy 'Lita' Dumas, Jeff Hardy, Lisa 'Victoria' Varon, John Hennigan and Melina Perez were all sat around the table, talking amongst one another. _They're all here. _Grabbing Randy's hand in her own, she looked to him for support.

With an unbridled grin easing over his lips, he led the way to the table.

"Orton! Man! We've been waiting dude!" Grinning from the table, Batista stood up, greeting his friend with a man-hug. Jeff stood up from his seat, pulling Trish into a gentle embrace. Leaving a kiss on his cheek, Trish smiled softly as he pulled the chair out for her to sit on. In customary fashion, the 'Divas' greeted one another with traditional screeching fashion. Soon enough, the table had calmed down long enough for Randy and Trish to order themselves a drink.

Taking a brief sip from the glass, Trish was very aware that every set of eyes on the table were on her and Randy.

"Come on Stratus!" Lisa goaded from opposite. "Out with it." Trish giggled nervously. Lisa was the probably one of the very few people who see straight through any front Trish put up. It was infuriating at times, but her friend was never wrong.

"Well," Trish began, nervously fiddling with her napkin, "Randy and I asked you all to meet us here because there's something we need to tell you. We've been keeping it a secret, because of me, for a while now. But you're our friends, and we figured you guys should be the first to hear. Randy and I are -…"

"…getting a divorce." Randy finished the sentence for his wife, leaving the table in stunned silence. Everyone sat at the table felt their jaws go complete slack, all looking at one another in disbelief. Of all the many scenarios the group had thought up, this was definitely not one they had even considered.

Turning to her husband, Trish landed a well aimed punch on to his bicep, causing the 'Legend Killer' to burst into sustained laughter. Trish shook her head, mortally embarrassed at her husband's particular brand of humour. Shaking her head, she turned to face her friends. "Ignore the asshole. We're not getting a divorce."

The group took a collective sigh of relief. Melina and Candice glared disapprovingly at Randy, whilst Lisa found it to be the most hilarious thing she had ever heard. Even Batista chuckled slightly, massaging his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The kid still had a shitty sense of humour. More out of relief that anything else, he chuckled along with Randy.

Finally composing himself, Randy wrapped his arm around Trish's shoulders. "Seriously guys. We asked you to come because we have something to tell them. You wanna say it baby?" Glancing down into his wife's eyes, he was met with a slight smirk.

"You go ahead." She grinned.

Chuckling with excitement, Randy fell short of rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Trish is pregnant. We're going to have a baby." Randy beamed out towards his friends, the table becoming shocked into silence again. It was broken the ear splitting shriek of Melina, who leaped out of her seat to crush Trish in an embrace. All the girls followed suit, rushing to Trish to give her the biggest hug they were capable of. The men were no less reserved, with each pulling Randy into their customary man-hug, each one being truly sincere.

"Trish that's amazing news! Congratulations. You too, ass face." Lisa grinned, hugging both Randy and Trish in unison, as the a small fight broke out over the other girls to look at the photo of their first baby scan. "I always knew the stud here would knock you up sooner rather than later. Thanks to him, you've got sleepless nights, dirty nappies and saggy tits to look forward to. How great, right?" Chuckling to herself, Lisa stepped back, leaving Trish to roll her eyes.

"If you guys will excuse me, I'm going to take a short bathroom break. All this excitement makes me need to pee." Grinning to herself, Trish stood up from her chair, squeezing Randy's shoulder as did so.

Smiling to herself, Trish had taken to more than two steps, before she turned back to look at the table. From his seat, Randy was positively glowing at her, his happiness radiating off him waves. Sat, surrounded by their friends, Trish wished she had a camera to capture the moment before her. It was perfect.

Turning on her heel, Trish continued to head to the bathroom, her smile remaining on her lips. It was true as she had told Batista, Trish's life was certainly not turning out as she had expected it too. And yet, she wouldn't change any of it for the world.


	14. An Accident?

**_A/N:_ Update time! I don't know if you lovely, lovely people have read my profile page, but I got me a new name. Yes. I am now going by the pen name re:invention. Added to that, 'All That Glitters' and 'Confide In Me' are taking my full focus at the moment. This means, that for the time being, updates on any other of my stories are suspended. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I figured it was a while since we'd had a little bit of drama. Please read and review!**

* * *

His grip tightened on her hand as the passed the security enforcers encircling the entrance to the building. Just by recognition alone, they allowed straight forward access into the arena, without the building's staff questioning them at all. Not that anyone in their right might would have challenged Randy Orton.

His eyes were brought down into an intense scowl, the round of his crystal blue orbs focused intently on the way forward, staring down anyone and everything that could attempt to get in his way. His step was ahead of Trish's, using himself as a kind of shield to clear the way for his wife. Even if he hadn't wanted to get into the building for a reason, there was no way anyone was getting close to his wife. She was precious to him, now more than ever.

For Trish, butterflies fluttered through her developing stomach. She found this morning, to her own great horror, that the majority of her pants no longer fastened around her waist. Immediately taking in her reflection in the mirror, there was a definite 'bump' beginning to emerge. Randy had been all over in an instant, swapping from kissing her lips to the round of her stomach, hugging her tightly to him. He was thrilled. And so was Trish. She was just irritated that she couldn't fit into her favourite pair of jeans anymore.

Having settled for a loose fitting gypsy skirt, she had followed Randy into the arena, keeping her eyes down cast from the world around her. Trish was definitely aware of the eyes watching her, the hurried whispers as people recognised her. It was obvious, that news of her pregnancy was going to get out, now that it had been shared with their friends. But for some reason, part of her wished it had stayed a secret. It was a lot to deal with, being pregnant. This was the first time for either her or Randy, and she wasn't looking forward to the circus the news would bring with it.

For one thing, Trish knew as soon as Vince McMahon found the news, that would be it for her. If her return to the WWE had been on shaky grounds to begin with, this was definitely going to be her swan song. The past dictated that Vince didn't take too kindly to female employees getting pregnant on the job. Dawn Marie was the obvious example. Rumours had always held that Dawn had found herself unemployed by becoming pregnant. It seemed being a WWE diva and becoming pregnant did not sit well with one another.

Which brought Mrs. Orton to her current neurosis. It was true, she hadn't exactly wanted to come back to WWE in the way that she had. Trish had never said she was done with wrestling entirely - far from it. She had dreams and other such ideas to fulfil in her life away from the squared circle. But in some way, she had always imagined herself returning to the squared circle one day. It seemed her plans had been expedited somewhat by being forced into becoming the General Manager of RAW. It hadn't been her first choice of positions, nor the most choice of timings for this to happen, but it was what it was. And Trish honestly was becoming slightly accustomed to her new role as General Manager. With the threat of having it all torn out from beneath her because she was pregnant…well it truly terrified her.

And hers was not the only career at threat here. Although Randy's performance had been exemplary of late, Trish honestly wouldn't put it past Vince to take it out on Randy for getting Trish pregnant. It was simply the way an egomaniac like 'Mr. McMahon' would work. He would get back at both parents in any way he could. And that might literally mean their jobs.

Turning the final corner, the red door, emblazoned with 'Mr. McMahon' sprang out before them. Almost as if it were some kind of macabre stoning in medieval times, scattered handfuls of employees were milling around outside, all whispering to one another, offering concerned if not accusatory glances towards Randy and Trish. News travelled very fast, it seemed. And now half of WWE's technical support staff, not to mention several lower grade wrestlers had gathered outside in time to see what was going to go down between the Chairman of the Board, and the Legend Killer and his wife.

Clearing her throat nervously, Trish felt Randy's arm ease its way around her lower back. Pulled into an embrace, Trish hesitantly looked up into the crystal orbs of Randy's. His smile was soft and genuine, a look of self-assured calm holding on his features. "Whatever happens Trish, we're in this together alright? I'm still going to have you, and you're still going to have me. We can deal with the rest afterwards, okay?"

Trish nodded softly, pushing her lips quickly against Randy's. "And we've still got our baby." Trish reminded, bringing a beaming smile to Randy's lips. It was just the spur of courage he needed. Taking Trish's hand into his own again, he exhaled in a controlled manner. They were going in.

"Randy, Trish, c'mon in." Vince grinned, rising from his seat behind the desk opposite to the entrance. Visibly closing a few loose sheets of paper back into a file, the Chairman of the company extended his hand to the two plush, black leather seats spaced equally apart from the large wooden desk.

To the casual observer, it would appear nothing more than a professional decorated room. To those who knew anything about Vincent Kennedy McMahon, they knew better. The desk was placed towards the centre of the room, giving Mr. McMahon a full view of all the comings and goings. The chairs were placed facing him alone, and spaced far enough apart to create distance between whoever was sat in a meeting with the boss. Divide and conquer was the order of the day.

Of course, Randy and Trish were well versed in the mind of games of 'The Boss'. After making sure his wife was comfortably seated, Randy scooted his chair closer to hers, so that when he reached out his hand, he could easily take hers. And so, this was the united front they presented to Mr. McMahon. "It's always a pleasure when the talent request one on one meetings," Vince added with a genuine smile, "I must confess I don't get to spend as much time with everyone individually as I would like. And I have been meaning to talk to the two of you for some time. So, what brings you two to my office today?"

"Vince," Randy started, straightening in his chair. "Trish and I…we have something to tell. Some really good news actually, depending on how you look at it…well great news no matter how you look at it," Offering a brief smile to his wife, Randy took the plunge, Trish happy to take the back seat. "Trish is pregnant. We're going to have a baby."

"You're…pregnant..?" Almost as though the words were in some kind of foreign language, Mr. McMahon's brow furrowed as he tried to process the words spoken to him. His grey eyes drawing a complete blank, he turned to Trish, his mouth twitching with unspoken words rolling around in his head.

"Fourteen and a half weeks Vince," Trish added, inadvertently resting her hand against her stomach. "I have a picture, if you'd like to see..?" Not totally sure of herself or her actions, Trish reached into her purse, resting at the side of her chair. Gripping her recent scan between her fingers, she offered it across the desk to the Chairman. Vince accepted it, his eyes devouring over it. His face remained unreadable, as he held the picture closer for more scrutiny.

"Well…this is…" Vince seemed to be considering his words carefully as he handed the picture back across the desk to Trish. This was the moment, Trish feared, where she and her husband would find themselves unemployed. Her nerves must have been obvious, as she felt Randy tracing circular motions over the back of her hand with his thumb. Silently taking in a breath, she could only wait for Vince's response.

"…this is wonderful news. Absolutely wonderful. Congratulations to the both of you." Vince's mouth creased into a broad smile as he stood up from behind his desk. Randy rose out of his chair to meet him, and immediately found himself engulfed in a huge bear hug courtesy of the Chairman. "Randy, congratulations son. This is truly a blessing. And Trish…" Turning his direction to the petit Canadian, Vince outstretched his arms.

Getting up from her seat, Trish found herself in the most unusual of positions - squeezed between Vince's McMahon's arms in a hug. "I'm so proud of you Trish. It's really wonderful news. I'm so happy for you both. You'll make excellent parents. This little baby is so lucky to have the two of you." Trish half wondered if she was asleep. This reaction was beyond anything she had been expecting, Trish wondered if her legs would hold beneath her.

As she and Randy rested back into their seats, Vince perched himself onto the edge of the desk, hands clasped on his lap in front of him as he smiled genuinely. "A forth generation superstar in the making," he chuckled. "I'm very pleased for the two of you. Its wonderful news, and I want you to know that you will have my full support during this pregnancy." Now Trish was sure he must have been smoking something before she came in. As discreetly as she could, Trish sniffed the air for any lingering scents.

"Trish, of course this means I'm terminating all your in ring activity. You will not, under any circumstance, without my express permission, be involved in any kind of physical altercation or indeed environment. If at all possible, you won't get any closer to the ring that the top staging beneath the screen." Scratching his chin thoughtfully, Vince considered what else would need to be done. "I'll be making heavy cutbacks to your schedule also. Essential television broadcasts and Pay-Per-Views only. I'll scale down your involvement backstage, and make sure you have all the necessary adjustments made to your locker room and office."

Randy glanced across to Trish, surprise glittering in his eyes. "I'll upgrade all your flights and accommodation to the most expensive. The same goes for Randy, as I want him to be with you at all times. Randy, I'll make as many concessions to your schedule as I possibly can, but as you're in the running for the Championship, I'm going to need you a little more than normal." Randy nodded, dumbfounded at the Chairman's generosity. "We'll discuss your working patterns after the birth at a later date. And Trish, I'll be giving you an assistant for your duties as General Manager, just to help take the workload off. The main thing is for you to stay relaxed and problem free so you can have the best possible pregnancy."

Jumping down from the desk, Vince strode across the room towards the door. "I'll have to inform all medical staff of your situation, and have the proper facilities on call should they be needed…perhaps a personals security team for any crowd problems and over-zealous fans…yes…that would be appropriate…" Stopping short of exiting the room, Vince turned back to Randy and Trish, his smile soft as his eyes twinkled knowingly. "This is wonderful news. Wonderful." And with a final chuckle, Vince exited the room, already dialling his cell phone to make the necessary changes.

Exhaling in a loud gush, Trish turned her head to face Randy. Vince's exuberance had all but drained her entirely. Her eyes falling level with Randy's confused crystal blue gaze, all Trish could muster was "Huh?"

* * *

Randy groaned audibly as he felt all the air crushed from his lungs. Rolling onto his front, he sucked in breath sharply as the aching throb in his lower back took hold. Groaning, he made some effort to crawl towards the ropes, but was met with a harsh elbow drop directly onto the back of his shoulder blades. It seemed Triple H was in no mood for being merciful. And who could blame him? In a Number One Contender's Match for the WWE Championship, no-one was really going to be that forgiving.

Gritting his teeth against the searing flame biting into his back, Randy forced himself to his knees, already hearing the rush of air pass by him as Hunter's knees was the only thing he saw before the world went fuzzy.

Backstage, sat cross legged on a steel chair just below the steps the staging, Trish's eyes narrowed. It was one thing to be the General Manager of RAW and remain impartial when one of the members of your locker room was getting beaten to a bloody pulp. But when that wrestler happened to be your husband, it somehow made things a great deal more nauseating. Gnawing furiously at the southern fried chicken, Trish mumbled obscenities as Hunter scoop slammed Randy down to the mat, allowing the 'Nature Boy' enough time to grab him from the outside, and blatantly choke him.

_Note to self : Fire that useless Referee. _Hurling the cleaned bone into the waste bin at her side, Trish growled as the referee became yet again distracted by Hunter as Flair went to work. Randy found himself back dropped over the top rope, giving Ric all the time he needed to stomp the living hell out of Orton's surgically repaired shoulder. "ARE YOU BLIND?!?" Trish hadn't realised she had screamed at the monitor until she registered the curious stares coming from the production hands all around.

Folding her arms across her chest, Trish felt a churn roll over in her stomach. It wasn't because of the life growing there - far from it. The sight of the love of your life bleeding would be enough to make any girl sick to her stomach. A few more minutes of this and Trish knew she would either pass out, or storm down to that ring and proceed to slap the taste out of Flair's mouth, living legend or not…

In the ring, Randy's world seemed to fade in and out before his eyes. Between the un-official tag-team combination of Ric Flair and Triple H, he was well and truly getting his ass handed to him. Feeling the grip of Hunter's taped neck around his head, Orton could only allow himself to be pulled to his feet. All at once, he was being launched towards the far rope. Exploding off the red line, Randy flew back at Hunter. Ducking beneath the extended arm Hunter offered, Randy rebounded off the other set of ropes. Taking a page out of Trish's book, Randy gripped the back of Triple H's head, bringing the Cerebral Assassin down into a bulldog takedown.

Shaking off as many of the cobwebs as he could, Randy rose unsteadily to his feet. As he attempted move forward again, he noted too late that Ric Flair's hand had reached beneath the bottom rope. The mat loomed up before Randy, his head connected awkwardly. Holding his hand to his throbbing eye socket, Randy rolled uncomfortably to his back, only to be met with a knockout knee-drop from Triple H. Hunter's heavy form was on top of him an instant, covering Randy for the pin.

Once again, unbeknownst to the referee, Hunter's feet rested on the bottom rope, giving him a definite advantage in the cover. Had Randy been at his usual performing level, he would have had an extreme amount of trouble at kicking out of the pin attempt. And at his level of consciousness, there was no hope.

The three count sounded against him, along with the opening strains of Hunter's theme. Flair was already in the ring, raising his arm, taunting abuse at Randy. Lying on his back, Randy screwed his face up, his right eyes socket burning with pain. That was it. Another chance at the WWE Championship had slipped through his fingers, this time because of Ric Flair. Randy only hoped they would at least let him limp backstage with some shred of his dignity in tact. There, he could pout and moan in Trish's arms until he felt a little better.

Trish it seemed, had other ideas…

"Cut the music!…I said cut the damn music!" At once, Hunter's theme, along with his celebration were cut short, as Trish Orton appeared on the stage, hand resting on her hip as she held a microphone to her mouth. The crowd cheered with adoration as the General Manager looked extremely pissed off. "You, referee. Get your ass out of the ring and hit the showers. This isn't 'Driving Miss Daisy' this is a wrestling match. You need to pay attention to what's going on in the ring. Whoever hired you needs a slap!"

The crowd chuckled in unison as the referee did as he was told, whilst Trish advanced towards the ring. "Hunter, I'm sorry to cut the celebrations short, but last time I checked, having your feet on the ropes counted as cheating in a wrestling contest. So, I am officially restarting the match, with a new referee. And just so the _'Naitch' _doesn't get anymore ideas, I will stay at ringside to make sure this is a fair fight. Ring the bell."

And as she had said, the match restarted, with Randy immediately taking the offence before a referee had made it down the ramp. Randy hammered his fist repeatedly into the head of the game, silently thankful to his wife for allowing him a second chance at the belt. He promised to thank her personally, and _repeatedly_ later, assuming he wasn't too juiced on pain medication. It was actually kind of cool to have your wife as the General Manager, Orton finally decided.

Things took a turn for the worst however. It all started with the referee being knocked out of the ring, toppling wildly over the top rope. Flair took this opportunity to enter the ring, unbeknownst to Randy, wielding a steel chair. Trish, forgetting for a moment her position in the company and her condition, dove into the ring. Standing directly between Flair and the brawling Randy and Hunter, her glare simply dared the _'dirtiest player in the game' _to even think about trying what he was thinking.

As Flair made a show of backing away from the ring, Triple H got the better of the situation. Gripping Randy's arm in his own, the whipped the 'Legend Killer' back across the ring.

Randy only became aware of Trish as he was on top of her. Unable to stop himself, his body collided with back of Trish, knocking her cleanly from her feet. Trish's eyes went wide with the force from behind, forcing the air out of her lungs. The mat hurried up to meet her head first on. She made an attempt to cushion her fall, but it had little effect. Her body crashed into the mat mercilessly, landing on her front as he head collided with the mat.

Stars clouded Trish's vision for an instant, before the searing pain in her stomach. It was the last thing Trish remembered, before the thick blackness of unconsciousness swallowed the world around her.


	15. RAW Executive Assistant

**_A/N: _Update. Oh the drama of it all. If you liked the last chapter...you're going to love this one...**

**Seriously guys, thank you so much for your constant reviews, they really do mean a lot to me. It's a blessing to know that you guys are out there reading and posting your thoughts on what I've written. So please keep them coming!**

**_Kim :_ As ever, you review every single chapter I write (in any story!) and I thank you for your constant support and kind words. Thank you!**

**_Nicole :_ I owe you a review, and I'm sorry. Life decided to get hectic on me. As always, thank you for taking the time to review. I'm so glad that you've stuck with me through every installment of this story. I really hope you continue to enjoy what I've written.**

**_Jhanelle:_ Get off your knees you goon! Would I (twisted as I am) kill the beautiful Orton/Stratus baby? Read and find out...**

**_Electra54:_ Thank you for your review, and thank you for sticking with my story. You really have it in for Vince, don't you? I love it!**

**_Amyy:_ One of my most loyal reviewers, you've been with me since day one. Thank you for your ongoing support! You rock.**

**_Princess Mel_: Deep breaths my dear. Deep breaths. And thanks for the review!**

**_keddie6:_ If I haven't said it before, welcome to the family. And that you for the review, I hope you stay with me to the end ;)**

**_veracruzortongal:_ Thanks for the review! Y'know, from what I've read about Randy in interviews and stuff, he strikes me as a family-orientated kind of guy. I can so see him 'gushing' about his own baby.**

**_coldh0pe:_ Dude. Totally.**

**_Tom & Taya:_ Haven't heard from you guys in a while, but I hope you're still out there in 'reader' land! Love & Light to you both!**

**_LaLa2006 :_ Welcome to the family.**

**_Shanny_ : I adore Trish. She is my muse. Hell, if you can make me like Edge, I should hope I can make you like Trish ;) Thank you for the review, and I hope you stick with this story. It's kind of got a special place in my heart as it was my first pairing. tears memories...**

* * *

"Randy, would you stop pacing? I told you, I'm fine. The baby is fine…Megan said everything's fine okay? Just sit down already, you're making me queasy with the walking." Trish chocolate brown eyes followed her husband as he continued to cross back and forth the clinical white hospital room, her hands resting protectively over her stomach as she sat cross legged on the bed. His shoulders were squared, matching the puffed out chest and perpetual pout of his bottom lip. Trish half wondered if it actually were possible for a human being to have steam billowing out of their ears. If Randy kept this up, she would obviously be finding out.

For Randy's part, he was absolutely furious. One second he had been on course to becoming the Number One Contender for the WWE Championship. The next thing he knew, he was crashing into his wife, who against the orders of just about everyone who knew, had gotten into the ring.

The ambulance ride to the hospital with an unconscious Trish lying in the bed next to him had been the most nerve wracking of his entire life. He couldn't help but expect the worse. Trish had landed so hard, and on her front to make it worse. Even with the 'give' in the ring mat, there was no way that kind of impact was going to have no adverse effect on their baby.

Taking charge of the situation, he had carried Trish in his arms into the hospital, growling for a Doctor to come immediately. As it happened, Megan, Trish's chosen GP was in the vicinity of the hospital, and gladly made the hour long drive to make it to Trish's bedside. Randy had demanded up to three 'second opinions' from any Doctor he could find, each assuring him that everything was well with mother and child.

Aside from a bruised hip and a slight headache, Trish would be fine, and their baby was as healthy as ever.

Which mean Randy's fear eventually gave way to unrelenting fury. The room had quickly cleared under the instruction of Trish, giving Orton all the room he needed to pace freely across the floor. His crystal blue eyes blazed with murderous intent, every once in a while throwing Trish a dark glance.

Trish had figured if Randy was going to blow up at her for being in the ring, it would at least be better done in private. The last thing she needed was for Vince McMahon (who had surprisingly made the trip with Trish and Randy) or Megan to see Randy having a near aneurysm over the evening's trauma.

His pacing coming to a halt, Randy stopped in front a set of green metal lockers, each holding medical supplies for the treatment room. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the faceless metal, his top lip curling into a sneer.

Without any warning, Randy balled his fist at his side. Without any warning, he heaved his fist back, before swinging it forward once again, smashing it into the lockers with full force. Trish nearly fell out of bed with shock as Randy pulled his first back, and repeatedly slamming it into the locker again. And again. And again. Trish visibly winced with each successive punch, finally whimpering at Randy to stop.

In an instant, the 'Legend Killer' whipped around to face Trish, and stalked straight to her bed, his eyes glowering intently as he rested his hands on the bed on either side of her. His voice came out as a strangled growl, attempting to shout as best as he could. "Don't you ever do anything so stupid again, do you hear me Trish?"

"Randy, I'm sorry I-…" Trish recoiled onto the bed as Randy slammed his fist down on the bed, the anger bubbling to the surface on his face.

"How could you be so selfish? What the hell were you thinking getting in that ring? You're pregnant Trish! Pregnant!" Grunting in frustration, Randy backed away from the bed, running his hands back over his head as his breath came out in short gasps between his clenched teeth. "Don't you get it Trish? You can't do shit like this anymore. You can't get in the ring and try and kick ass. You've got our baby to worry about now! And you're taking risks with the baby's life for no good reason!"

Trish felt the tears pooling in her eyes as she looked on sadly in the face of Randy's anger. She had seen him mad before, but never like this._ And never at her._ "I'm sorry Randy. I wasn't thinking…"

"That's your problem Trish. You don't think. You don't look at things passed the here and now, you just get involved with out giving a damn about the consequences. Well you can't do that anymore. You're vulnerable now. It's not just your life you're screwing with, it's the baby's as well. And if you can't give a damn about yourself because you care for me, at least do it for our child," Randy's angry tone had reduced to pleading as he dropped to his knees at Trish's bedside, "if anything had happened to you or the baby…because of me...I-I don't know what I would do…"

His voice becoming choked by emotion, Randy rested his forehead against the side of the mattress, his tearing eyes crying silently into the covers. The enormity of everything that happened took hold all at once, and he momentarily lost the ability to keep his emotions in check.

Trish felt about as bad as she ever had. How stupid could one person be? Of course she hadn't been thinking about their baby. She was thinking like_ Trish 'fuckin' Stratus_ the diva who would dive in the ring and beat the living hell out of anyone who threatened her man. For the first time during this pregnancy, Trish realised she wasn't who she used to be. She wasn't invincible. And it wasn't just her health she had to worry about now. There was another one which she was responsible for, one which Randy should be able to trust her judgement with.

Overcome with guilt, Trish gently reached her hand to the back of Randy's head. As gently as she could, she ran her hand over the back of his head, tracing the tips of her thumb and fingers over the round of his head. As if rising from a dream, Randy raised his head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He smiled softly, his way of an apology for being as harsh as he had been. Randy hadn't meant to speak to Trish like that, but he couldn't help himself. He loved her so much, sometimes love just made you do stupid things.

Crawling up onto the bed, Randy took Trish's petit form inside the protective warmth of his arms. Cradling her body close to his chest, his lips found the crown of her head, planting gentle kisses over the surface as he rocked back an forth. Lifting her head, Trish caught one of the kisses on her lips.

Taking Randy's hand in her own, Trish brushed her lips over his reddened knuckles. By the looks of the swelling, his fist must be sore from attacking the defenceless lockers. A quick glance and Trish saw just how dented they were from the force of Randy's attack. "This looks really sore." Trish noted, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. "Does it hurt?"

Randy grinned ruefully. "Good thing I'm already in a hospital, right?" Trish returned his smile, shaking her head as Randy grimaced slightly as he tried to straighten his fingers. "Doctor…now…please…?"

Trish giggled softly, kissing Randy's lips softly. With her free hand, she gripped her buzzer, pushing the tiny red circle to alert a Nurse that their presence was needed. Pulling back gently, Trish grinned as she nodded her head towards the lockers. "I hope you realise you're paying for that…"

Both Randy's and Trish's head turned to the doorway as the well known voice boomed from somewhere outside in the corridor.

"_Where is she…? Don't give me 'Next of Kin' crap…Shut Up!…I said shut up! You! You look like you know the difference between your ass and your elbow…where is Trish?…Really…is she still breathing?…Excellent…because I'm going to kill her!"_

Without any further warning, the scarlet face of Vincent Kennedy McMahon crashed through the door to Trish's room, causing the blonde Canadian to squeak with surprise. His dark eyes screamed at Trish in their silent anger, narrowing as he regarded Trish huddled on the bed within the safety of Randy's arms. Stepping further into the room, the Chairman of WWE calmly closed the door behind him, before clasping his hands in front of himself.

"Trish…" Vince's tone was not at all threatening, more like a concerned father disciplining his wayward offspring. "Didn't we have a talk about you getting in the ring? Hmmm?" Vince waggled his greying eyebrows as he waited for his answer, arms folding across his broad chest.

Trish mouth hung open, as she glanced back to Randy for some kind of support. His abject surprise was even more obvious that hers, as he couldn't take his eyes off of the 'tutting' Chairman.

In a second Vince's stern exterior melted away. The looming form of the Chairman opened his arms, and flung them around Randy and Trish, pulling them both into a tight bare hug. Across the expanse of Vince's shoulders, Randy and Trish could only look at each other in disbelief. "I'm so pleased you're okay," Vince uttered, squeezing a little tighter to show his appreciation.

"However," Vince continued, pulling back to create an eye level. "You will not, under any possible circumstance set foot into that ring. Am I clear?" Trish nodded weakly under the commanding authority of Vince McMahon. "Good. And to make sure you don't have any more 'spur of the moment' brainwaves to throw yourself into the thick of things, I'm promoting a member of the talent to the position to Executive Assistant."

At Trish's shocked expression, Vince smiled wryly. "Well, someone has to keep an eye on you. With your own Executive Assistant, there should be no reason what so ever for you to 'venture' down to ringside." Mr. McMahon chuckled at his own brilliance. "And should you feel the need? Well then my personally appointed Assistant will make sure you don't get yourself into trouble." Randy grinned wildly at Vince's plan, leaving Trish to only pout.

"Now if the two of you will excuse me, I have an insanely expensive private plane to catch. There's a board meeting they couldn't possibly hold without you. And they said delegation was dead…" Muttering more words to himself, Vince nodded his head slightly, before exiting the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Okay," Trish surmised, "either he's been visited by the ghost of Christmas Past…or Linda is putting out big time!"

A few days after Trish's 'eventful' trip to the hospital and the General Manager of RAW found herself trawling through a clothes rack for maternity clothes in the town's mall. Leafing through a selection of loose 'cover-alls', Trish stuck out her tongue, shoving the mass of pastel coloured garments away. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a pair of skinny jeans. The faded blue denim was of figure hugging design, with the diamante trims at the bottom being just the kind of 'accessory' Trish looked for in an outfit.

Crossing the store to the jeans, Trish was vaguely aware of Randy over in the men's section, checking himself out in the mirror's reflection. Holding up a selection of expensive dress shirts, one in midnight blue, the other in a salmon pink, he seemed to be mentally debating which would show off his body better. _A fat lot of help he is _Trish mused.

Trish could honestly say her husband was probably the only man on the planet who enjoyed cloths shopping more than she did. There had been several occasions when she had felt herself debating Randy's status as a 'hot blooded male' when she found him fawning over a pair of jeans she was going to buy for herself. There was metro sexual. And then there was Randy Orton. Still, at least she would always have someone to discuss shoes with.

Giggling to herself, Trish traced the tips of her fingers over the jeans, admiring the cut of the legs as they flared out into a 'boot-cut' style. Sighing wistfully, Trish could only thing back to a time when such tight fitting jeans would look fierce on her perfect body. Nowadays, she was a little ashamed to say that she'd been paying less attention to her cardio work-outs, and more to the buckets of Southern Fried Chicken she seemed to crave. Self consciously looking behind herself, Trish mentally judged the round of her bottom. Was it her, or was that bad boy getting a little less toned than usual?

Turning back to the front, she rand her hands over her stomach, feeling the beginnings of the swell of her pregnancy. For the first time in her life, Trish Orton had a belly. And by god if she didn't love it.

So lost in her own thoughts of her growing tummy, Trish wasn't aware of Randy until his hands looped through her own arms, resting the flat of his palms on her stomach. His chin nestled into the curve between her neck and her shoulder as his lips found the lobe of Trish's ear. "You look beautiful." He murmured, kissing softly at the expanse of neck that he could find.

"I look like I've put on a few pounds," Trish giggled, locking her fingers with Randy's. "But yeah. I am kinda hot." Randy grinned at his wife, revelling in her reaction.

"And so modest." He added, nipping at the pulse of her neck.

"Hey, don't you be lecturing me on modesty," Trish warned, her eyes holding an amused glint, "I saw you checking yourself out with those shirts over there."

Randy pretended to be offended. "I'm just trying to help your pregnancy be the best it can be," Randy explained, "if you're going to swell to the size of cow, one of us still has to look like the beautiful people we are."

Trish's mouth gaped open in half-shocked offence. Randy chuckled devilishly, allowing his mouth free reign at Trish's neck. The Canadian squealed as his tongue licked over her neck. Squeezing her waist closer to him, Randy lifted Trish cleanly off her feet into the air. Trish rewarded him with a deep kiss, sucking his pouted bottom lip into her mouth, exploring every inch of the pink flesh with her lustful tongue.

Sighing as Randy let her down, Trish reluctantly bid good-bye to the killer jeans she had so wanted, and began heading back across the way towards the maternity section. Falling in step beside her, Randy caught up her hand in his, interlinking his fingers with hers.

"You given any thought to names?" Rand finally asked.

"For the baby?" Trish replied, twitching her nose slightly, "a little." Stopping at the rack for the hideous maternity clothes, Trish made a vomiting face as Randy selected a pair of truly ugly sweat pants.

"Oooh, look…elasticated waist…" Making a show of the stretching ability of the waist band, Randy hooked a thumb on either end, and pulled the waist line as far apart as he could. "Comfortable, yet practical." He grinned as Trish gave him the middle finger.

"Do you think they have anything in a hoochy skirt?" Trish mused, moving each vile pastel offering to the side. She was rapidly becoming more and more disgusted with each new revealed crime against fashion.

"So, I was thinking," Randy began, clearly trying to work up the confidence for what he was about to request. "I know it's like…whatever…but I would really, really like to have the same initials as me. Y'know, like baby 'R' 'K' 'O'…" Orton trailed off as he studied his wife's expression.

Trying to remain as diplomatic as possible, Trish slowly nodded her head. "If you want."

"Really?" Randy gushed, obviously over-the-moon with Trish's easy acceptance of his request. "Wow…cos my Mom thought you would be like, totally against it." Grinning happily to himself, Randy continued to rifle through the maternity offerings.

"Your mother is a smart woman." Trish giggled, shoving away a hideous dress.

"Huh?" Randy replied, only half hearing what Trish had said.

"I'll do you a deal," Trish responded. "You want the baby's name to be 'RKO' after his or her Daddy. Well, I'll agree to that…if you agree to me picking the baby's name should it turn out to be a girl. Deal?" Randy raised an eyebrow as he considered his wife's words.

"Deal!" He replied enthusiastically. "But you're going to lose. I told you, I have this feeling that we're going to have a little boy."

"It ain't over till the fat lady gives birth." Trish giggled.

"Wait, do you know something I don't?" Randy's eyebrow arched itself upwards from his head as he pondered on Trish's desire to name the baby should she be a girl. Did that mean Trish already knew the sex of the baby? Come to think of it, Randy had wondered what she and Megan had discussed that other night in the hospital when he gone on a coffee run for Trish.

"Maybe," Trish grinned, flashing Randy a knowing smile. "And maybe not. Anyway, we have a deal."

"Right. The baby will have my initials. If she's a girl, you get to pick her name. But if he's boy, then -…"

"We will both decide on the name." Trish interjected, waggling her eyebrow at Randy. How well she knew her husband. And if Randy's pout was anything to go by, she had been right on the money when she had guessed he was going to try and claim naming rights on the possible baby boy. "Now hand me those elastic pants. As ugly as they are, they are most likely the only things I will end up fitting into."

Randy grinned, pulling the baby blue sweat pants off the rack, and handing them to his wife. Slinging his arm around Trish's shoulder, the pair made their way to the cashier, the repulsive garment in tow. Giggling in the warm embrace of her husband, Trish couldn't help but smile. She couldn't seem to get past this exhilarating happiness at being pregnant. Randy was overjoyed, and so truly was Trish. They hadn't planned for this to happen so soon, but both were so happy that it had. Nothing, it seemed, could ruin the blissful bubble they had created for themselves.

As ever with Trish, her bubble was about to well and truly burst.

Trish raised her eyes to level with the cashier, and stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw going slightly slack as she registered what was before. Randy, nearly stumbling due to Trish stopping so suddenly, followed Trish's gaze to whatever it was she was staring at. All at once, it became clear to Randy, and he couldn't help but take in a sharp breath of utter disbelief.

For Trish's part, she knew that she would recognise that flowing brunette hair, that glorious bronzed skin, those 'puppy dog but please-come-fuck-me-senseless' eyes anywhere. Indeed, Trish had spent many a night last year rightly or wrongly plotting the untimely death of the very person stood before her. For various offences.

Dressed in hipsters which rested dangerously low on her perfect waist, Lana Matthews folded her arms across the pink baby-tee stretched across her ample chest. This one woman, who had almost caused the break up of Randy and Trish, was now stood within smacking distance of Trish. How tempting it was to Mrs. Orton to launch into a _'Chick Kick' _pregnancy or not. Lana and Randy had a history together, and Trish knew all to well the depth of Lana's feelings for Randy. Hell, she'd tried it on with him in the past. However, she'd had the sense to make herself scarce whenever Trish was around. It seemed however, that Ms. Matthews had decided to rear her head once more.

Lana glanced nervously up at Trish, before moving her gaze to Randy. The smile which twitched at her lips made Trish feel like leaping across the remaining distance and tearing every single lock of hair out of that woman's head. But that wouldn't do. At least not yet.

"Well, this is a little awkward…" Lana conceded, trying to avoid the burning stare emanating from the depths of Trish's chocolate brown eyes. Trish curled her lip in response, almost shaking with the anger building inside her. "So I guess I should get this out before you smack the shit out of me." Lana added, watching Trish's strained expression. "Trish, I'm your new Executive Assistant."

Extended her hand across to shake Trish's, the Canadian Diva felt as though someone had deposited a bucket of icy cold water over her. Glancing down at Lana's hand, and then to Randy, Trish felt as though her whole world was about to spin completely off it's access. If this was joke, it was so not funny. Trish honestly wondered if she was about to go into labour from the shock.

Intelligent thought escaped Trish completely, coming with an utterly confused reply. "You're my what now?"

**

* * *

_A/N:_ And you thought Lana was long gone. Oh no. I can already see Jhanelle fuming. For those of you who don't know Lana, check out the prequel to this story, 'Some Kind of Bliss' and all will be explained. Love & Light guys !!**


	16. Out Of My Mind

**_A/N:_ Update. Finally. Apologies for the long wait, but here is the next chapter for all your reading enjoyments. Speaking of, this chapter contains some sexual content. You've been warned. Please R& R!**

* * *

"You are totally out of your twisted fucking mind! If you think, for one freakin' second that Trampy the Husband Layer over there is going to be my new Assistant, you've got another thing coming…and it's coming in the shape of my boot aimed for your billion-dollar ass!"

Eyes blazing, Trish's palms rested flatly against the wooden desk. Sat opposite her, an amused smile curving his lips, Vince simply folded his hands together on his desk. Offering a simple glance to Randy, who was sat in a chair behind the ranting blonde Canadian, Vince only nodded his head.

Flushing an intense shade of red, Randy stood up from his seat. His over-six-foot frame towered behind the petit form of his wife easily. Gently wrapping his arms around her waist, the 'Legend Killer' lifted Trish completely on her feet. Refusing to play along, Trish simply remained in an awkward, upright position. Randy's superior strength meant he could carry her across the room with ease. But Trish felt at least she was putting up some kind of defence, to appease her bruised ego if nothing else.

Taking back his seat, Randy forced Trish to perch on the edge of the chair along with him, her bottom planted firmly between his open legs. Resting his chin on its favourite place between her neck and shoulder, his hands trailed up and down his wife's arms, making some attempt to soothe the boiling temper currently holding firmly over her.

Nostrils flaring, Trish continued to glare, throwing disgusting looks from Vince to Lana, then back to the Chairman again.

How could that crazy old bastard have done this? What happened to the new family orientated Vince McMahon Trish had been privy too recently? Where had he gone? If she didn't know better, the RAW General Manager would swear blind he was trying to push her into an early labour. What other goal could he be hoping to achieve by naming Lana as her Executive Assistant? There wasn't another woman on the entire planet that could push Trish's buttons any more than that particular brunette. There she was, blushing on the far side of the room. _I'll give you something to blush about you skanky biatch… _

_Keeping a safe distance, I'll bet. _Trish's growling thoughts surmised, causing a disturbing snarl to twitch on her pouted pink lips_. Good. Because if she comes within touching distance of my husband, then I'm gonna-…_

"Now Patricia," Vince began, consciously rubbing his thumbs together as he noted the looks of death shadowing the blonde's taut features, "when have you ever know me to be wrong?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Trish replied, staring icily at her employer, "because it will get me fired. I will simply glare."

"Whatever your personal misgivings maybe Trish, Lana is an excellent choice to be an Executive Assistant. I have thoroughly researched this, I'll have you know. She more than meets the desired level of experience. Her IQ level is impressive, and she's bright, attractive -…"

"…a slut." Trish offered with a self-satisfied smirk.

Choosing to ignore Trish's little outburst, Vince continued on with his list. "…she has excellent people skills, excellent mathematical and problem solving skills, with an experience of management. And, Ms Matthews tells me she is a fairly accomplished orator-…"

"Oh she's got oral skills alright." Trish made the show of shooting snide comments under breath, but everyone in the room easily heard the thinly veiled attack.

"Trish." Randy warned from behind, softly squeezing her tight shoulders between his palms. Although he could easily understand where his wife was coming from, and her reasons for being this hostile, she needed to tone it down a little. After all, Lana was Randy's friend, and she didn't deserve this level of venom.

Nothing had happened between them last year, not through Lana's lack of trying of course. Randy couldn't change the fact that she still held a candle for him. And Randy was clearly fond of the girl. She would be someone that Randy would care about. Nothing would change that. Nothing should.

"Look Trish," Vince continued, pinching the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. That was always an easy sign that he was getting exasperated with a situation, "whatever your past with Lana, you need to put it aside. She's an excellent choice for the position. Besides, your obvious disdain for the girl will make sure she tells you like it is, instead of being a _'yes woman' _to you and your ego."

"She is not going to be my assistant," Trish spat through clenched teeth, "I'd sooner suck diarrhoea out of Snitsky's dirty underwear than have that woman any where near me." Everyone in the room, Trish included, grimaced at the mental imagery she had just provided. Still, it proved a point didn't it? Impressing upon people the fact of how strongly Trish felt about the situation.

"That's disgusting," Vince muttered, "but an excellent idea for a backstage segment." Vince's worn features clouded over in thought as he stood up from behind his desk, "I'll leave the three of you alone to fight out your issues. Get whatever you need to out in the open," Vince commanded, "because come Monday morning Patricia, Lana will be at your side as your Executive Assistant. End of discussion."

Straightening his tie, the bulky Chairman power-walked out of his office, making a display of his assumed dominance over everyone in the room. Closing the door with a firm thud, silence descended in the Chairman's Office. The only real sound was the heavy breathing of Trish as her eyes narrowed at Lana.

For the first time during the conversation, Lana cleared her throat, directly holding eye contact with Trish. "Trish, I want you to know that I realise I'm not your first choice for your Executive Assistant…in fact I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be your last choice either…but we're both in this together, so I think we need to work out our issues now, before we start working together…do you agree?"

Licking her lips, Trish was clearly thinking about what she would say. She had every urge to tear into the other woman with every once of venom and anger bubbling inside her veins, but chose be just a little more conservative with her words. "I suppose you had something to do with this? Do you come to Vince, specifically, to ooze your way back into my life?" Lana blushed slightly, looking away from Trish's intense stare. "That's what this is all about isn't it? You want back in…with my husband…the fact that I told you to stay the hell away means nothing clearly. You're just hell bent on getting it on with Randy."  
"You're so wrong," Lana bluntly commented, "yes, I asked Vince to be considered for the job, but not for the reasons you think." Uncrossing her legs, Trish simply snorted in response. "I'm serious Trish. Whatever you think my reasons are for asking to be given this job, I did so that I could try and make up for what happened between us in the past."

Rolling her eyes, Trish shot Randy a bored look. "By past I'm assuming you're referring to the fact you tried to get it on with my then-boyfriend, all the while knowing he was planning on proposing to me?"

"Yes. I'm not proud of the way I handled myself Trish, and if I could take it back I would. The point is, it's all in the past now. I want to make it up to you, and I figured I could by helping you through the remainder of your pregnancy. "Lana offered a disarming smile, for Trish, and then to Randy.

"Why should I believe you?" Trish wouldn't buy this little hooker's sweet smiles and 'grown up' attitude easily it seemed.

"Because it's the truth." Lana assured. "Besides which, I'm not into Randy like that anymore. I'll admit there was a time that I would have done anything to be with him, but that's past now. I've moved on, let go of the past if you like. Maybe it's time for you to do the same?"

"Time for me to do the same?" Trish spluttered, eyes bulging with sheer incredulity. Randy sensed the sudden change in his wife's demeanour, automatically tightening his grip around her waist. If he didn't, he was sure she would launch herself across the room, aimed directly for Lana's throat. "Time for me to do the same?" Trish repeated, eyes fixed firmly on the brunette in front of her. "Why don't you just spit it out Lana? If you've got something to say, I suggest you say it before I smack the shit out of you."

Lana seemed to consider what Trish was saying, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Finally resting her weight against the chair back behind her, she decided perhaps honesty might be the best policy in this difficult situation. "Alright," she agreed, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, "alright, I guess I should say what I want."

Trish smirked, waiting with morbid fascination. Nothing this woman could say would be good - in fact it was likely to push her into near psychosis. Any yet, some part of her was practically drooling at the idea of Lana speaking her mind. "I think you're selfish Trish. I think you're far to concerned with yourself, and the greater glory of Trish _'fucking' _Stratus than you are about anything or anyone else. You boarder on egomania and act like a spoiled bitch when you don't get your own way."

Trish's wide eyed silence convinced Lana to continue. If anything, her confidence was building with each breath. "More than you being selfish, I don't believe you deserve Randy. I didn't think you did back when I first met you, and I'm undecided if you do now. Randy is a great guy, and any girl would kill to be with him. But that seems to be past your notice and you're getting far too comfortable. It's all about Trish, and her name and her legacy, forgetting the guy who's been behind you all the way. Not to mention the fact you're pregnant with his child."

Trish's right eye twitched slightly, an eerie wave of calm washing over her. "You're a self centred human being. That's what I think about you." Lana nodded her head, folding her arms across her chest.

Behind Trish, Randy's face was aghast. Not simply because of what Lana had just said, but the fact Trish seemed to be taking it so well.

"I see." Trish responded, nodding her head deliberately. "That's what you think of me. Well, maybe it's time you faced up to something sweetheart. However self-centred and selfish I may be, Randy still chose me. That's right. You might be right…I might be the biggest bitch on the face of the planet, but this guy still loves me more than anyone else…including you. If I'm selfish, what does that make you Lana?"

At the brunette's confused expression, Trish grinned in some kind of triumph. "Pathetic? Even now, after Randy has married me, you still can't get over your school girl crush of him. He fucked and chucked you Lana. I'm not proud of what he did, nor would I try and defend it. But it doesn't change the fact that you were just somewhere to stick his dick. And that must kill you. Sitting there, thinking I'm not good enough for him, yet you love him so much and he won't give you a second look…"

"No, I don't." Lana replied through gritted teeth. Her fingers gripped at her jeans, squeezing the material to stretching point in her palms.

"Oh I think you do. It eats you up inside to know that I'm with the man of your dreams, and there's nothing you can do to change that. It's really kinda sad that you can't accept it after all this time…"

For the most part, Randy had kept silent, wondering if it would be right for him to say anything given the circumstances. Not that he was ever afraid to speak up to Trish if he thought she was stepping out of line, but right now, things were rapidly approaching the nuclear stage. Orton had personal knowledge of both women, and both were entirely too volatile for his own good. And pregnancy or not, Randy knew the greatest danger lay with his wife. She wouldn't think twice about leaping across the room and pounding on Lana till the other woman's face resembled some kind of fruit jam.

Standing from his seat, his arms around Trish's waist forced her to stand also. Holding the curve of her body close to his, the grip of his large hands told Trish everything she needed to know. "I think this needs to end before it gets ugly," Randy commented, throwing a warning glance to Lana. She locked gazes with him for a moment, before turning away in disappointment. "I think you both need to weekend to chill out and get over your shit. You heard Vince. You two are stuck together, whether you like it or not. So move past your history, and act like grown ups, for my sakes if nothing else."

Without another word, Randy gripped Trish's hand in his own, leading her towards the exit. Turning back over his shoulder, Randy offered a parting sentence. "Trish will see you in her office, first thing on Monday morning Lana." The other woman rolled her eyes, as Trish scowled darkly. _This wasn't over. Not by a long shot._

* * *

The journey home for Randy was nothing short of torture. Trish continued to rant and rave all the way back to their hotel where they were staying. Given her emotionally charged state, Randy allowed his wife to continue the barrage against Lana, thinking maybe she needed a little venting time. Secretly, Randy was getting a little more than concerned about Trish's emotional state. It seemed to him that she was spiralling to some emotional melt-down - her grip over her emotions diminishing as her pregnancy progressed. A pissed off Trish Orton was awful at the best of times. A pregnant, severely pissed of Trish was something else entirely. _I think we're going to need a bigger boat _Randy mused to himself.

"Are you even listening to me?" Trish screeched, barging past her husband into their hotel room, both perfectly manicured hands raking at the thin air in front of her. "Do you not see how monumentally bad this is? That woman is like…is like a cancer! She's a cancer! Twisted and black and rotting everything in her path…"

"Maybe that's a little harsh." Randy observed, an eyebrow rose as he tossed his car keys into the dish resting on a cabinet.

"Oh it's fine for you. You don't have to work closely with the woman who single handidly tried to break up you and the love of your life." Trish fumed, slapping at a lamp on the chest of drawers on her left. The object flew wildly off the surface, tumbling wildly before shattering as it hit the ground. "First thing Monday morning, I am going to grab Vince McMahon by the scruff of his neck and punch him in the face. I'm going to punch him until I break a few knuckles. Then I'm going to punch him some more…"

Randy winced at Trish's display of violence, not to mention the bubbling blood lust in her eyes. "…then I'm going to find that slut with the crotch rot and scratch her eyes out…before beating her to death with her own shoe!" Turning to face directly at Randy, Trish's index finger pointed directly at him. "And YOU mister…are going to help me dispose of the body. Ignorant, pig nosed BITCH…!"

Growling in frustration, Randy tore his jacket from his body as Trish continued to pace. Her back was to him, meaning she couldn't see him stomping towards her. She turned around in time to see Randy looming over her. Before she could say another word, he had her pinned against the wall, her wrists high above her head. _Enough was enough_. "Randy…what the hell are you doing-…oh…god…"

Trish's voice became a strangled moan as she felt Randy's teeth nip their way over the neck and throat, the searing heat of his tongue tracing the line of her pulse. "Whatever I have to, to get you to shut the hell up."

Trish groaned to complain, but Randy's full lips pushed themselves against her, effectively silencing her. His tongue expertly teased her mouth, licking over the crevice between both lips. Sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, he teased the soft pink flesh, silently pleading entrance to her sweet mouth. Trish obliged willingly, both legs weakened as his tongue played delicately with the inside of her mouth.

Holding both hands above her with one of his own, Randy lowered his free one, letting it trace the peaks and hills of Trish's body. Taking her left breast in the flat of her hand, he gently kneaded the flesh, feeling himself harden as his wife whimpered into his mouth. His hand travelled lower, pushing up beneath Trish's shirt to touch the swell of her stomach. His touch was gentle, yet causing arousal in Trish like none she had felt before.

Randy's hand worked its way lower, sliding past the waist band of her light pink velour pants. With swift ease, Randy's hand thumbed past the top of her underwear, sliding carefully beneath the silk material. With a rough shove, Randy pushed both pants and underwear down, so that they pooled over Trish's feet. Randy's growled instruction caused Trish to step out of both, leaving her bottom half naked. The wall felt cold against the round of her buttocks, but Trish barely noticed as Randy moved her hand once again.

Deliberately teasing, Randy smiled into their continued kiss as his fingers spread over her mound, seemingly refusing to dip lower. He knew Trish's body better than she did it seems. He brought Trish to the point of begging, before finally sliding his hand between her thighs.

The blonde Canadian gasped at once, her lips melting clumsily against Randy's. His long fingers stroked back and forth along the length of her delicate folds. Trish's back arched, her thighs tightening around Randy's hand, as if trying to guide him closer to her entrance.

Randy moaned as he felt the silken heat burning against his fingers. The sensation was so much he momentarily lost his grip on Trish's wrists. As she tried to struggle free, Randy reclaimed them, pressing both hands tightly against the wall. He growled as he nipped her bottom lip, a simple warning not to try and break free again. Randy was in control of Trish's body, whether she liked it or not.

Trish definitely liked it.

Bringing out a long moan, Randy decided not to tease Trish anymore. Cupping his hand, he pushed his index and middle finger upwards, sliding into Trish. Her voice came out as one long moan, her hands tensing with nothing to grip. Randy held his fingers still for a moment, allowing Trish to get used to the feeling, as he did the same. The gloriously tight heat seemed to want to pull his entire hand into her core.

Sucking at her bottom lip, Randy gently retracted his fingers, before pushing them back inside Trish, deeper than they had been before. Trish's moan reached a higher pitch, egging Randy on. He repeated the moment, slightly increasing his rhythm as he pulled back and pushed forward again. Finally, both fingers reached inside Trish, right up to his knuckle. The 'Legend Killer' found a stead rhythm, repeatedly thrusting his two fingers in and out of his wife's burning core.

Pulling back from their kiss, Randy bit down into Trish's neck, nipping at the flesh as her hips bucked against the thrusts of his invading fingers. Adding more pleasure to the enjoyment he was already providing, Randy brushed him thumb over the tight nub of flesh, eliciting a cry from Trish. Her hands struggled to be free, but Randy wouldn't allow it. He continued to thrust his fingers into Trish, whilst teasing at the soft round of flesh.

Randy became aware of thin sheet of sweat resting on his wife's brow, as well as the tempo of her intake of breath. He knew how close she was to her climax. He could see it playing across her features, both eyes screwed closed because of the heady pleasure.

Increasing the tempo of his thumbs and fingers, he watched as Trish's back arched against the wall, her release taking over. She squeaked as he suddenly pulled out his fingers, letting go of her arms at the same moment. She wasn't given time to form words however, as Randy was on his knees in front of Trish in an instant. Pushing her thighs apart, he hooked one of his left shoulder.

His head delved forward, breathing in the intoxicating scent of Trish's arousal. The climax which had been building hit Trish all at once, as Randy's tongued speared inside her. Her voice became as scream as her husband thrusted with his tongue whilst sucking at the tight nub of pleasure giving flesh.

Randy groaned with desire as Trish finally released, lapping hungrily as her body trembled. His tongue continued to work over intimate folds as the last waves of her orgasm rode throughout her body.

As her breathing finally calmed, Trish rand her hands back through her hair, trying to tame the blonde waves. Standing back to his full height, Orton grinned devilishly as brushed his thumb over his bottom lip, savouring a further taste of his wife. Trish practically collapsed against him, her head resting against her chest as her legs gave way.

Randy easily caught her in his arms, scooping her legs from beneath her. With measured steps, he crossed the room, gently laying his wife on the bed. He collapsed against her, struggling uncomfortably with the hardness in the front of jeans. Lying on top of her his chin rested comfortable in the valley between her aching breasts. "That's cheating." Trish sighed, stroking her fingers through his cropped hair. "I was ranting…"

"I know," he chuckled, "it was the only way to get you to shut up. Besides," Randy continued, "when you're mad, you get horny." Trish rolled her eyes, her thumbs tracing the curve of his beautiful cheek bones. "Hey, there's something I wanted you to see."

Trish groaned as Randy pulled her up from the bed, but enjoyed resting against him as he wrapped one of the bed sheets around her waist. Leading her through the next room, Trish became aware of an object covered with a sheet. It hadn't been there when they had left, and she had no clue what it was. The odd lump and bump sticking from beneath the cover gave nothing away to what it was.

Crossing the room to the sheet, Randy grinned like an excited school boy at Trish as he gripped the sheet. She could see the emotion glistening in his eyes, and silently sucked in her breath as she waited to see what he would reveal.

The sheet gave way to reveal the most touching object Trish could have imagined. It was a freestanding crib, made from polished hardwood. Each side was filled with ornate, hand crafted dowels, housing a fluffy white mattress inside. It had wide shaped for stability, but had the feature of rocking. Trish held her hand to her chest, feeling tears pooling her eyes.

Gathering the sheet around her waist, she walked into Randy's arms, admiring the beautiful crib. "Where did you get this? When did you get it?"

"The other day at the mall. You were looking at the chocolate store, so I stopped by an ordered this. I got the hotel guys to build it while we were at the arena. It's cute, right?" Randy looked into Trish's eyes for her approval.

She gave it whole heartedly. "It's perfect. You have great taste." Trish giggled, feeling Randy's arms wrap around her waist.

"So…you're not going to scream about Lana anymore?" Randy grinned, nudging his wife's arm.

"No. First I'm going ride you till you scream." Trish noted. "Then I'm gonna start screaming about her."

Randy allowed himself to be led towards the bedroom with a sigh. "That works for me."


	17. Forgive and Forget

**A/N: Update. Yay! No more writer's block. So, I thank you all so much for your patience and understanding. I hope now to get back to updating regularly. So, for your reading enjoyment is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review. It makes me happy, and forces me to write all that more quickly. As ever, I disclaim! Please R & R!!**

* * *

_Another minute and she's officially late._

Grinning manically to herself, Trish checked her wristwatch for the umpteenth time that morning. A month into Lana's stint as the Executive Assistant to the General Manager, and Trish was convinced that the other woman was going to be late. In fact, she was practically counting on it.

Despite Randy's 'actions' to soften Trish's demeanour towards the other woman, Trish was still a woman scorned. Her attitude had softened slightly towards Lana over the past four weeks - medically it had to. At six months pregnant, Trish Orton was in no position to be perpetually angry at someone. Apart from the fact it was exhausting, her Doctor Megan had practically threatened to beat her unless she agreed to be civil.

This in turn meant that her relationship with the other woman had improved somewhat. They spoke politely to one another - always about work of course, and almost put on a united front for the staff of Monday Night RAW. Begrudgingly, Trish had begun to realise that Lana really wasn't all bad as a person. In different circumstances, the General Manager could seriously have seen herself becoming firm friends with her Executive Assistant.

But things being what they were meant that Trish would never allow that to happen. As much as Lana and Trish appeared to be friendly, Trish still held a burning streak of resentment for the other woman. It seemed that nothing - not even time of her husbands pleading would ever lessen it.

Indeed, on the first weekend of Lana's appointment, Trish had already started her campaign to get Lana ousted. Whilst Randy had spent part of his Sunday at the gym with the boys, Trish had used that time to busy herself with creating a list of all the realistic things for which Lana could be fired for. It ranged from insubordination, to abuse of privilege, and of course to unprofessional conduct.

The latter implied so many different causes for which someone could be fired for. It could be anything really, Trish reasoned. Mrs. Orton originally tried swinging it with undue stress for Trish during her pregnancy. She re-called with a certain amount of grim fondness, the war of words between her employer, Vincent Kennedy McMahon, and her Doctor Megan Carey. It was a definite clash of the titans, but Mr. McMahon came out on top. Lana would stay where she was.

With that option out of the window, Trish tried her next plan of attack. The reason for Lana's firing didn't have to be so complicated, she realised one morning. Why couldn't the cause be something simple? It could be because of improper dress, poor personal conduct…or lateness.

The improper dress idea was abandoned as Trish noted Lana's appearance on her first day. Dressed in a smart black business suit, her hair pinned back, Lana looked every inch the professional. Trish honestly didn't know which made her angrier. The fact that Lana was dressed appropriately, or that she looked amazing in the suit. The General Manager always felt terribly self conscious around her assistant. Whilst Lana's waist looked trim and sexy, Trish's seemed to be getting bigger.

Well into the sixth month of her pregnancy, and Trish could no longer see her feet. It made her weep both with joy and horror. Well, the weeping was mostly down to Trish's emotional wreck status. But Lana was always on hand with a tub of ice cream and a fresh box of Kleenex. _God damn her for it, too. _

And so, each of Trish's carefully conceived plans for Ms. Matthew termination ended up in much the same way. Lana was the consummate professional at all times. There was no way around it. And it infuriated Trish.

Hanging onto her last scheme, tardiness was the only thing left Trish could use against Lana. As fate would have it, her Assistant was never late. In fact, she was always almost early. She would arrive at the arena before Trish, with a fresh latte and a lightly toasted sesame bagel ready for the General Manager's consumption. _Don't you just hate suck ups like that? _

Checking her watch again, Trish noted with glee that Lana was about to blow it.

_Please let her blow it._

Unfortunately for Trish, at the last possible second, Lana stepped into her office. Dressed immaculately in navy blue, pinstripe pants and long sleeved white turtle neck, her brunette hair was pulled back in a loose bun. A set of reading glasses rested precariously on the tip of her nose as she kicked the door shut with an exquisite heeled boot.

Under her left arm was her trusty clipboard on which she seemed to keep information on anything and everything related to the runnings of RAW. In the hand attached to that arm were two take-away cups of coffee, and in it's opposite a bag containing ring donuts. Licking her lips as she noted that, Trish raised an eyebrow as Lana deposited herself in the seat opposite her desk with a sigh.

"Here's your latte Trish," Lana commented as she placed a cup in front of the General Manager. "And I picked up some donuts. An idiot at the front the queue held me up. He couldn't decide if he wanted jelly or iced. Retard. Everyone knows jelly donuts rule."

Trish simply nodded as she removed the lid from the cup of coffee. The rich sent of the frothy latte filled her nostrils, causing her to slide her tongue over her frosted lips once more. Either she was pregnant, or a five hundred pound compulsive eater trapped in a fitness model's body. Sipping the liquid, the blonde moaned softly as she felt the warm liquid spread down from her throat to her entire neck. _God, _she needed that this morning.

Scooting her glassed back up onto the bridge of her nose, Lana extracted a donut from the bag, tearing it in half before nibbling at it. Sliding her clipboard on the desk in front of her, she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Came Trish's muffled questions as she bit into an entire donut. The powdered sugar settled beneath her nose, giving her the appearance of some kind of coke addict.

"Well there's the meeting at ten with the sponsors. They want to go over the advertising strategy for the quarter." Trish rolled her eyes at the thought. "Oh, don't worry Trish. I've told that Executive Clyde not to wear that cologne he had the last time? The one that made you nauseous? He promised he won't."

_Nice work genius. That was my excuse for getting out last time! I was so bored I thought I was going to die. _"What else?" Trish enquired pleasantly enough.

"Your lingerie marketing company are coming at twelve this afternoon to talk about your business. Phoebe said she'd be here for that." Trish smiled at the mention of her assistant Phoebe. "You've got lunch with Randy at one thirty, and a sit down with the pyrotechnic technicians this afternoon around four-ish. They want to run some ideas past you for the opening of the show." Trish nodded, taking another sip of her coffee. "…and that's it. Other than the show tonight of course."

Trish nodded slowly, absorbing all the information given to her. "Oh, I took the liberty of booking lunch with your mother next week. I've booked her flight, and matched her accommodation to yours." Lana noted Trish's raised eyebrow with alarm. "I'm sorry. Should I not have…"

"No, it's fine." Trish replied, finding a smile on her lips, despite her anger and Lana's meddling. "I needed to catch up with my Mom. You just saved me the hassle of sorting the flight out. If you want to be really helpful, you could eat the dinner for me too."

The final barb of sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by Lana. Removing her reading glasses from her nose, she folded the arms as she locked eyes with Trish. "I'm sensing a little resentment from you here Trish. If you've got something to say, then say it. Bottling up emotions isn't good for you, or for your baby."

Trish considered her response. Why was she angry? Because Lana had correctly pre-empted something she needed to? Or was it because she brought her coffee and food in the morning, something which the pregnant woman craved? Was it a crime to go beyond your job description and help someone who clearly needed it? "It's just you're so perfect." Trish admitted, dropping the remains of the donut she had been eating. "You're insanely good at your job, and do things that I need to do without me having to ask you to do it. It gets very irritating, very quickly."

Lana smiled at Trish's honesty. "Trish, I know you're still angry with me for what I've done in my past, and I know you've been working on any excuse you can to get me fired from my job. I know all this, and it still doesn't stop me from coming in every day, with a smile on my face and a coffee in my hand."

"Why?" Trish blurted out, surprising herself. "If you know all this, why do you keep coming back in everyday?"

"Because…" Lana began, her voice fading away from her mouth. "I guess it's because this is the only way I can make it up to you, to try and put right the mistakes I've made. I can't take any of it back, but I can try and show you I'm not the horrible person you think I am."

Trish's face showed that wasn't exactly convinced by what Lana was saying. "Look, the truth is, is that you're still my idol. You're the greatest female wrestler in the history of the business, a beautiful woman, who excels at anything she puts her mind to. You're everything I aspire to be. I figure I can learn so much from being around you, that I can learn to be as good as you are."

"Well…you're not exactly untalented Lana…" Trish admitted, surprising herself with her candidness.

"I know that. And I know I go above and beyond for you everyday. But I promised Mr. McMahon that I would do everything I have to do to make sure that your time in work is as easy and stress free as possible. Even if that means convincing Shane that he has to sit in in your place at the Sponsors meeting this afternoon…" Trish chuckled at Lana's knowing, if wicked grin.

"For real here Trish. If you want me gone, just say the words. I'll tell Vince that I quit and I'll get out of your hair for good. But I don't want it to be because you think I'm out to get you, because I'm really not. I promise you that." Trish opened her mouth to reply, but was cut short at the bustling at the entrance to her office.

All at once, a red faced Kenny Dykstra came crashing through the door. Marching into the room without invitation, he slammed both his hands flat down onto the surface of Trish's desk. "What the hell is this?" Kenny demanded, his lips curling into a sneer. "I checked the booking sheets and see that I'm wrestling Eugene tonight? Eugene? That's a fucking insult Trish! I'm Championship material…I deserve another shot at the Intercontinental Title. In fact, I demand it! I demand that you give me what I deserve!"

"Kenny," Trish began, raising her hands as if to placate the angered superstar. "I've given you three shots at Jeff Hardy this month, and you've lost them all. I cannot, in good conscious, justify a fourth shot at the Intercontinental Title. You just need to face facts that you're not the Number One contender. It's time to let someone else to take their shot at the belt."

"NO!" Kenny bellowed, slamming his hands down again on the desk. "I don't accept that! I am by far the most talented superstar on this roster! I'm twenty years old, and I deserve to be a Champion, and you can make it happen. Now you give me my shot Trish, or I swear I'll…"

Blind panic set in Trish. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to say. Luckily for her, she wasn't alone in the room. "Or you'll do what bitch?" Lana demanded.

The brunette woman stood up from her chair, resting both hands on her hips as she faced off against the bewildered wrestler. "Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here without permission, demanding title shots from the General Manager? What makes you think you deserve one? What makes you think you even deserve her time…?"

"I…I…" Kenny stumbled, taken back by Lana, who was now jabbing her forefinger into his chest forcing him back towards the door.

"I…I…shut up you little bitch! You get your scrawny ass out of this office now, and you'll be lucky if you actually wrestle at all tonight. You're playing with big boys now Kenny," Lana yelled, as Dykstra backed out of the office, "either stop acting like a bitch, or do as they say at the WWE…get the '_F_' out!"

"Cocky ass motherfucker. Waltzing in here demanding title -…Trish?…Trish are you okay?" Turning back into the room, Lana was confronted with the sight of Trish, both hands clutched against her stomach as her lungs heaved breath in an out.

In a second, she was at the General Manager's side. "Trish, what's the matter?…do you want me to call Randy?…your Doctor?"

"No," Trish hissed through clenched teeth, "I'll be alright…baby is just kicking is all…does it all the time…when I'm stressed…will be a soccer player…for sure…" Trish groaned through her clenched teeth as she felt the baby's foot dig into her insides once more.

Lana looked down with a concerned expression. Resting her hand on Trish's back, she performed soothing circular motions over her shoulders and down to her lower back in an effort to relieve the tension. Silently, the blonde was thankful. Anything to take her mind of the insistent jabs to her insides.

Mercifully, the baby Orton seemed to have calmed down, as Trish sat back up straight in her seat, pushing the waves of blonde back out of her face. "Thanks Lana. I'll be okay now."

Giving Trish one more look over, Lana returned to her seat. "Alright. Well, back to what I was saying before Dykstra interrupted…I want this job, and I want to do it well…for you to acknowledge that I do it well. If you want to chuck me to the curb, I will respect that." With a silent nod, Lana gathered up her clipboard and coffee, backing towards the exit, face still firmly gazing at Trish.

"If you decided, however," Lana continued, knocking the handle of the door to open it, almost loosing grip of her drink, "that you want to keep me around. I'm begging you to just let go of the past. Apart from the fact it's causing at atmosphere…all that resentment bubbling inside can't be good for the baby, right?" Offering a brief smile, Lana was gone out of the door before Trish could form a reply.

As much as he hated it, the woman had a point. Maybe it was time to get past her issues with Lana. She had been nothing but helpful, and seemed to genuinely want to help Trish in her job. Besides, it wasn't like to Trish to hold grudges. If she were honest, forcing herself to remain angry with the other woman was just getting plain exhausting. And the last thing a pregnant woman needed was more exhaustion. Maybe she would give Lana a chance. If she couldn't forgive her just yet…maybe Trish could try to at least forget.

Smiling softly to herself, Trish moved to reach for another donut when the knock at her office door interrupted her sugar craving. "Come on in." She insisted, instead grabbing at her cooling latte.

Trish certainly wasn't prepared for what was going to happen next. Bounding through the door came the grinning face of the raven haired Lisa, known better as 'Victoria' in wrestling circles. Under one arm, she clutched a huge stuffed teddy bear, and a ribbons attached to yellow balloons were in the other.

Thrusting the bear to Trish, Lisa tied the balloons to the back of her friend's chair, before dropping into the seat where Lana had been seated moments before. "How's it going fat lady?" she enquired, snatching a donut out of the bag. "Ready to cut off Orton's balls so he can't ever make you this huge ever again?"

"Hi Lisa." Trish smiled, deciding to take a donut for herself after all.

"So I was wondering," Lisa began between mouthfuls of donut, "how's your bladder doing?"

"My what?" Stopping mid-bite, Trish glanced wearily at her friend. She could only imagine what was coming next.

"Well I was reading in this magazine," Lisa confessed, "that pregnancy sometimes makes a girl lose control over her bladder…y'know, so she pees herself. Just wondering if it's happened to you yet?" At Trish's raised eyebrow, Lisa just smirked. "Plus, I was wondering, could the baby make you have like a prolapse or something?"

"A prolapse?" Trish spluttered, spewing coffee down her chin in surprise.

"Yeah, a prolapse. Like, you know the say when the bottom falls out of your world? Well a prolapse is when the world falls out of your bottom." Lisa managed to keep a straight face for no more than half second, before snorting with laughter. Throwing her head back, her hair danced wildly around her head as she whole-heartedly chuckled at her own sense of humour.

"Hilarious." Trish added, rolling her eyes. "And to what do I owe the pleasure, apart from the gifts and the medical examination?"

"Well, the girls and I were thinking," Lisa replied, recovering slightly as she brushed a tear away from the corner of her eyes. "You're nearly seven months gone, and you haven't had a baby shower yet."

"A baby shower?" Trish groaned in fear. Knowing her friend too well, if she were involved in a baby shower it was bound to be depraved in one way or another.

"A baby shower." Lisa repeated, a knowing gleam in her dark eyes. "So keep the night after Survivor Series free girlfriend. Because you're getting the baby shower to end all baby showers…"

"Will it involve a prolapse?" Trish enquired as Lisa started up from her seat.

"Wait and see." Lisa sniggered, before waving at Trish. As quickly as she had breezed in, the woman was gone. Trish sat in silence for a moment longer, contemplating just exactly what could go wrong at an event planned by Lisa. Making a mental note not to invite any of her family, Trish realised the last thing she needed was her great aunt being sent to an early grave by some of the things that could come out of Lisa's dark mind.

Chuckling, Trish reached for her donut, when another knock at the door stopped her. "It's a sign I'm not supposed to eat you, isn't it my sugar coated friend?" Sighing, Trish dropped the donut back onto her desk. "Come in." She added with a sigh.

Her eye brightened up immediately as Randy slid in through the doorway, closing it firmly behind him. The General Manager of RAW couldn't help but notice the way his jeans clung to his thighs, holding tightly to the bulge just below his waist. His tanned skin was hidden behind a tight, black t-shirt, the image of some random metal band emblazoned across the front.

A devious smile spread across Randy's face as he planted a kiss on his wife's lips, before dropping onto the seat in front of her. Helping himself to a donut, he relaxed back into the chair. "You busy?"

"Apparently not. I was going to try and eat something, but that's just not happening this morning." Trish replied, her eyes twitching in annoyance as Randy munched away at one of the donuts she had been longing to devour.

"Good," Randy replied, oblivious to his wife's mood, "because you're coming out with me."

"I'd love to babe, but I've got to much to-…" Trish was silenced as Randy pushed a donut into her mouth.

"The guys are hanging out at the beach, we've been invited, and we're going. I've already cleared it with Lana. She's going to keep things running while you come and relax in the sand." Randy watched as Trish pulled the donut free of her mouth. The expression on her face told Randy she was about to come up with a reason why she was needed at the arena. "We can make out in the sea…" Randy tempted in his sing song voice.

Trish exploded into a fit of giggles as he waggled his eyebrows at her. "Alright."

* * *

By the time Trish and Randy had returned from the beach, they were the one who were officially late. The show had kicked off fifteen minutes ago, and Trish was due to address the crowd at some point this evening.

Other than a hurried rush down the ramp, that night's edition of RAW had gone smoothly, leading into the Main Event. It was Randy, teaming with Carlito to face Kenny Dykstra and Chris Masters.

As was becoming the norm in Dykstra's matches, he had been using any means necessary to win the matches, be it by using the ropes for leverage or levelling an opponent with a low blow. Whatever the reason, Trish had insisted on being at ringside for this match, making sure that Kenny couldn't cheat. Call it an abuse of privilege, but Mrs. Orton didn't care. She was going to police this match whether the Board agreed or not.

Of course, she was completely bared from entering the ring. In fact, Lana made perfectly sure that Trish remained at the announcers table, sat comfortably on a chair to watch the goings on the ring. Lana took it upon herself to patrol the ring apron in Trish's place, making sure things stayed fair and even.

The match had gone in Dykstra and Masters' favour early on. Kenny had seized the advantage by landing a stiff uppercut to Carlito's jaw, knocking him for six.

This left Randy alone for the time being with Kenny and Masters, both of whom were obsessed with securing a victory over the Number One Contender for the World Heavyweight Championship.

As it would happen, Randy wasn't about to let his opponents have it all their own way. Whipped into the corner by Kenny, Orton lifted his leg at the last available second, causing the Spirit Squad Alumni to run head first into his outstretched boot With Kenny dazed, Randy took him down with a makeshift bulldog, planting his face flat into the ring mat, earning a swell of applause from the audience.

Back to his feet, Orton forcibly dragged Masters into the ring, before trading blows back and forth with the 'Masterpiece'. Masters got the better, finishing Randy up with another whip towards the ring ropes.

Randy rebounded, exploding into a magnificent shoulder block. The air forced from his lungs, Masters tumbled backwards to the mat, landing directly on top of the referee. With Lana rushing to Charles Robinson's aid, Kenny slipped unnoticed beneath ring apron.

Almost unnoticed. Rising from her seat, Trish glared over in Kenny's direction, shouting for Randy to watch his back. Her voice was inaudible over the din of the crowd. Cupping her mouth with her hands, Trish strained with all she had to get her husband's attention, who was oblivious as he continued to level Chris Masters with stiff right hands to the face. Immediately grabbing her stomach, the General Manager felt a sharp pain in her stomach. _This wasn't the baby kicking._

Kenny re-emerged from beneath the ring, wielding a steel chair. Sliding beneath the bottom rope, he was on top of Randy before the 'Legend Killer' knew he was back in the ring. Lifting the chair high above his head, Kenny prepared to bring it back down with terrible force. He was never given the chance to land the shot however, as Carlito was back in the ring. Grabbing Kenny from behind, he levelled him with the _'backcracker'._

Writhing in pain, Kenny was in no position to fight as Randy covered him, earning a considerably slow count from the awoken Charles Robinson.

Standing up to a gale of cheers, Randy looked to the outside of the ring to share his joy with his wife. All at once his grin faded, as he noted Trish steadying herself against the announcers table, Jerry 'The King' Lawler doing everything he could to support her.

In an instant, Randy was out of the ring, rushing to Trish's side. Taking her gently in his arms, he let her rest her weight against him, as he cupped her chin in his hand. "Baby, what's the matter?" He enquired, his baby blue eyes searching Trish's contorted face for an explanation.

"Randy…" Trish whimpered, holding onto his bicep for dear life. "I think I just had a contraction…I think…I'm going into labour…"

* * *

**_A/N:_ Jhanelle, please remember to breathe before you abuse me!!**


	18. Realisations

**_A/N _Hello out there in reader land! Anyone remember this story? Here is an update for those of you who are still with me. My apologies for the length of time it has taken me to update this story. Confide In Me took my focus, but now as that story is completed, we move to All That Glitters. So, here is the next chapter. The end is on the horizon for this story also. But I assure you, there will be yet another chapter in my Randy/Trish saga that I began way back when in August. **

**So, I hope you enjoy this one! I disclaim! Please read and review!!**

* * *

"You're certain," Randy repeated for what seemed like the eightieth time of the evening, "that you and the baby are okay?"

"Yes Randy," Trish sighed through her teeth, relaxing onto her back as she lay on the bed. "Megan said everything ifs fine." Resting the back of her hand against her forehead, Trish feebly pushed her shoes off of her feet with her toes. Across the room, Randy rested against a vanity chest, hands forced firmly pushed into the pockets of jeans.

His eyebrow was arched slightly on his own forehead, his expression as though he were deep in thought. "So…what happened out there tonight?"

Randy remembered with a certain amount of distress exactly what had happened that evening, at least from his perspective. Everything had seemed to be coming together in his match. He and Carlito had managed to pull out the win, despite the obvious dirt tactics being used against them. Randy had turned to his wife to share his victory, only to see her doubled over in pain.

RAW had immediately gone off the air, and Randy had carried his now faint wife backstage. She seemed for a moment to lose lucid consciousness, almost as if she were on the verge of passing out. One they had arrived at the hospital, courtesy of the ambulance Vince always had on call should Trish need it, Mrs. Orton was immediately seized upon by a battery of Doctors, all wanting to perform their own tests and checks.

As always, Trish's own Doctor Megan was on hand, and had taken charge of the situation. After a few hours of waiting to get the results of the test that had been performed, Megan had allowed Randy to take Trish back to their hotel, under the strictest of orders that she was not to exert herself in any way, shape of form for the next few days. Megan had also insisted that Trish remain in her bed for the next twenty-four hours at least, before she even contemplated getting back on the road.

And so, Randy had taken Trish back to their room, informing Vince, Lana and a group of other 'officials' of the WWE, that the General Manager was taking the rest of the week off. Luckily for Randy, Mr. McMahon had been more than understanding; sanctioning the break for his pregnant General Manager, offering to give more time to the couple should they in face require it. Randy had found Vince's agreeability slightly strange, but he didn't have time to ponder too much on it. All his focus for now would be solely on his wife.

Now back at their hotel room, Trish had collapsed on the bed, as Randy continued to fret. He was getting more and more worried about his wife as her pregnancy progressed. It seemed if anything, it was getting harder on Trish. The first few months with her fainting spells had been tough enough, not to mention her exhaustion and vomiting spells. But now she looked perpetually exhausted, on the verge of fainting always. He was secretly convinced she was getting weaker, not to mention losing her healthy colour.

Randy blamed himself in part, for allowing Trish to continue working as hard as she normally did. Actually, perhaps that didn't describe what Randy had done. He never actually _allowed_ Trish to continue working. Rather she had told him she would not give up work, nor would she slow down the pace. In all reality, he had no choice but to turn a blind eye.

Clearly however, that could go on no longer. It seemed her role of General Manager was taking a serious toll on Trish's health. It was the most obvious stress inducing part of her life that could be eliminated without issue. All Randy had to do was get Trish to agree to it.

"Megan said it was the baby," Trish explained after a great deal of thought, her eyes sleepily following Randy around the room. "She said it sounded to her as though I had experienced Braxton Hicks contraction."

"What does that mean?" Came Randy's oblivious reply, pregnancy and it's terminology he clearly was not well versed in.

"It's kind of like a practice contraction. Like my uterus getting ready for birth." Trish explained, pushing her hair back from her face. "Plus I think the baby decided to start kicking again right around that point." Trish's voice quietened for a moment. It was clear to her by now that baby Orton was destined to be a soccer player if his kicks were anything to go on.

Noting Randy's furrowed brow from across the room, Trish pushed herself onto her elbows. Her chocolate brown eyes held his beautiful blue orbs in a soft gaze. "It's nothing serious baby. Megan said it's a normal part of pregnancy, which most women go through. Admittedly, not as early as I have, but it's not unheard of. She said there's no reason to be overly concerned."

"Do most women normally faint?" Randy honestly enquired, his sceptical tone not going exactly unnoticed by the expectant mother.

"No," Trish replied, offering a wry grin. "That seems to be exclusive to the Orton team." Randy nodded his head, as though he had been expecting as much. Realising there would be no point in keeping anything from Randy, Trish came clean about all of Megan's finding. "My blood pressure isn't so good. It's higher than it should be, so I was told. Megan wants to monitor that because…"

Trish voice trailed off, due to the fact she caught Randy's alarmed expression. "…it could harm the baby? Trish, when are you going to wake up and start taking notice?" Randy pleaded. Getting up from where he had been resting, he crossed the room to be at Trish's side. Kneeling down at the side of the bed, he took Trish's slender hand in his own. "This is serious stuff. I know you live to work and enjoy the challenge and whatever…but it can't go on if it's affecting your health and putting our baby at risk."

Trish looked lost for words, her warm chocolate brown eyes downcast. "I can't lose you Trish. Do you get that? Life without you is no life at all. And I want this baby so bad…"

"I know baby, I know." Trish nodded, squeezing Randy's hand. "I want this baby too. I think it kinda hit home tonight, how stupid I've been." Trish smiled softly, stroking her hand over Randy's head. "I've just got to accept that I can't be Superwoman anymore. I've got limits, and I have to start respecting that."

"Really?" Randy beamed. Any hint of shock of Trish's realisation was hidden behind his pouting lips curving into an incandescent smile.

"Really." Trish replied. "I think its time for me to call it quits on the General Manager job. It's been a blast and all, but I think its time to call it a day. Vince will respect my reasons, and hopefully the fans won't be too disappointed in me."

"No-one will be disappointed in you Trish," Randy grinned. Standing up, he kicked off his own shoes. Stepping onto the bed, she stood behind Trish, forcing her to scoot forward slightly. Lowering himself to sit down, his legs parted to allow Trish to sit between them. Reaching down, Randy gripped the base of his tee-shirt, and peeled it up and over his head.

As Trish relaxed back against his bare chest, Randy's hands gently slid up and down her arms, before resting on her shoulders. His fingers crept forward, reaching down onto her chest. Carefully, he took each breast in either hand, feeling the weight resting in each palm. Being as gentle as he could, Randy made soft stroking motions with the tips of his fingers. Tracing gentle circular motions over her breasts, Randy gently kissed his lips against the back of Trish's neck.

Trish hands' rested on Randy's powerful thighs, running forward and back over the denim of his jeans. His lips teasing the shell of Trish's ear, Randy slowly began to unbutton her top, gently lowering it down over her shoulders. His hands crept up from Trish's chest, to rest on her now bare shoulders. With a focused tenderness, Randy began to massage her shoulders, feeling the skin beneath become loose and supple under his touch. Trish's voice came out in a soft moan as she felt the tension being worked skilfully out of her neck and shoulders.

Randy affectionately wrapped his arms around Trish, flattening his palms against her swollen tummy. "It's good that you're focusing on your pregnancy." His voice was a gentle whisper, lost in the waves of her sea of blonde hair.

"Yeah, it is." Trish agreed, resting her hands on top of Randy's. "Besides, I've let my other career slide for almost a year. I figure if I'm at home, I can spend my time on designs for underwear." Feeling Randy's body tense against hers, Trish hurried on. "Nothing stressful of course. I'll leave the business running in Phoebe's capable hands. But I think some drawing and designing could be relaxing for me."

"That's good," Randy agreed, inhaling the scent from Trish's blonde mane," anything that relaxes you is good by me." Chuckling playfully, Randy began to nuzzle Trish's neck, teasing a soft giggle from her throat. "You know, I've thought some more about names for the baby."

Randy's confession made Trish smile secretly. "Really? Baby Randy or Randelle going to have competition?"

Squeezing Trish's upper arms, Randy traced his tongue over the pulse in her neck. "Maybe. Obviously Randy junior is my preferred, but if our baby is a boy? I was thinking maybe Riley? Like how about Riley Kadence Orton. I like it. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds good. Baby RKO, or course." Trish smirked at the initials. "But I do like the name Riley." Randy grinned behind Trish. "And what about if our baby turns out to be a girl? There's a fifty per cent chance it could be y'know."

Trish could feel the smile on Randy's lips against her neck. "I have thought about that too. I got this book on baby names that I've been looking at, and I've checked out a few girls' names too. There is one I liked. What do you think about Rhea?"

"Rhea…" Trish considered the name for a second. "I like that. It's different, but feminine at the same time."

Randy smirked behind Trish, pleased with his choice. "I also thought about Rowan, Rose and Rebecca. We could name the baby Riley if she's a girl too I suppose."

"You've really thought a lot about this haven't you?" Trish's question earned her a gentle squeeze from Randy.

"Well yeah. I mean, this is our baby after all. He or she is going to have the name we give them for the rest of their life. The last thing we want to do is name them something stupid like Apple or Peaches. The kid would hate us for the rest of their lives, especially when they hit High School. Can you imagine it? Hell, I picked on kids with stupid names when I was younger." Randy's eyebrows rose at the memory.

"Well, as we've agreed to name our child's initials after his or her father, what about middle names for our daughter?" Trish's took one of Randy's hands in her own, softly flexing her fingers in between Randy's.

"Oh there are lots of girls' names beginning with a _K_. There's Kayleigh, Karen, Kirsty, Kathryn, Kaitlyn, Kimberley…" Randy's voice stopped as he felt Trish react at the name of Kimberley. "What, you don't like it?"

"No, it's not that." Trish explained. Turning her head, Trish looked up into Randy's inquisitive eyes. "Actually, I've been thinking a lot about names too. And Kimberley is sort of my favourite middle name for our baby, if she's a girl."

Randy beamed at his wife, glad they had both agreed on a name. "What about her first name? What did you come up with?"

"Well, there's one…" Trish's voice faltered for a moment. Not entirely sure of how Randy would take her suggestion, she was cheered on by the soft touch of his hand cupping her face. "…I like the name Reagan." Trish winced slightly as she saw the expression run over Randy's face. "You think it's stupid."

"No. Actually, I love it. I think it's a perfect name for our daughter. Reagan Kimberley Orton." Randy smiled broadly. Lowering his head, he gently brushed his lips against Trish's.

"You really have gotten into girls' names haven't you?" Trish's inquisitive expression brought out a soft blush from Randy's cheeks.

"Alright baby girl, confession?" Trish nodded. "I know I said I wanted a Randy Junior, but the more I thought about it, I'm not so sure. Don't get me wrong, I'd be thrilled to have a son, I would. I'd love to have my own little boy that I teach to play basketball and go to his school footballs games. And I'd love to show him how to use the Orton charm to get _lots _of girls into bed…" Trish snorted incredulously, causing Randy to hurry on.

"But I kinda think I want us to have a little girl first," Randy explain bashfully. "I'd love to have my own daughter that I could raise as my own little princess. I wanna see her go to ballet class and have ribbons in her hair. I guess I want you to give me a little girl that's just like you."

Trish felt the tears glittering in her eyes as Randy smiled shyly at her. Turning around completely in Randy's arms, Trish pulled his body close to hers. Resting herself on his lap, his arms found their way to wrap around her body, raining kisses down over her neck. "I love you baby girl."

"I love you too. And I'll see what I can do about our little girl." Trish smiled as Randy placed his hand over her stomach. "Oh, and by the way…Lisa and the girls are throwing me a baby shower."

Randy looked up at Trish. "Awesome. They'll spoil you baby girl. You deserve to be treated like royalty for a while. You sure as hell deserve it. Just promise me…" Randy faltered for a moment, resting his forehead against Trish's. "…that you'll take it easy for here on out."

Trish nodded, kissing Randy's lips softly. "For the next two and a half months till the baby arrives, I shall do nothing but relax. I promise."

Grinning, Randy wrapped Trish inside a tight embrace, gently lowering her body down against the bed. As his hands found the way to her skirt, hers to his belt, only one question remained between them.

What exactly was Vince going to say when he found out Trish was quitting?


	19. A Fair Trade

_**A/N: **_**Hello out there. Anyone awake enough to remember this story? First of all, big apologies go to those of you who have read this story, and been waiting patiently for an update. For reasons explain on my ****_MySpace_ page, my updating is definitely going to be slow for a while.**

**But, here for you reading pleasure is the latest chapter of the story. As I've already mentioned, we're coming to the close of this story. However, if you guys are interested, I do have another sequel that I can write. Assuming you guys would _want_ to read it of course. Anyways, apologies again for the length of time between updates. Show me you forgive me by reading and reviewing! I disclaim!**

* * *

Glancing around the backstage area of the arena as _Survivor Series _entered its last hour on the air, Trish felt as though she were looking at it for the last time. The soon-to-be former General Manager sighed gently. Her more than ample chest rose softly and fell again just as quickly with the intake of breath. The rounds of her breasts rested above her enlarged stomach; pushing out beneath the wave of black silk it was covered. As though she couldn't help it, Trish found herself sighing again. 

Her hand silently twitched at the hem of the dress she was wearing as she pondered all manner of things from her past and her maternal future. The cool material seemed to glide easily between the tips of her fore-finger and thumb, offering a little comfort to her sad nostalgia. All the while however, Trish Orton bit down onto her lower lip, eyes doe-like and searching for something. She didn't know what it was. Comfort? Solace? It didn't matter. Trish honestly didn't know if she was going to find it stood here.

For some reason, perhaps more than it had before, Trish realised she truly was coming to the end of an era.

Of course, she had left active wrestling many months ago. At that point she had completely severed her ties with the company, never once looking back. And she had been okay with that. Of course, there had been the initial pain of separation. There had been days when she craved to be on the road, crammed into a rickety old car with Lisa and Candice and Amy, giggling and sharing crude stories. There had been nights when she had longed for the roar of the crowd, the exertion of competition and the elation of winning. Hell, Trish even found herself on occasion wishing for those sleepless nights on yet another aeroplane, her body sore from competing, and her mind still alert and filled with adrenaline.

It was all part of the life of a professional wrestler. A life she had chosen to leave.

But Trish had eventually dealt with it and moved on. After all, all she had ever needed was to look into those crystal blue eyes of her soul mate, and she knew she would be all write. As long as Trish had Randy Orton, she knew she would be okay.

As well as her devoted husband, she had been convinced that her career in fashion and design was about to take her to new heights. And for a while she was right. Her own career had blossomed into something even she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams. She was a designer, a model and a business-woman. It was a transition beyond the confines of a 'WWE Diva', and she was proud of what she had achieved. She was appreciated not for her physical attributes of her athletic ability, but for her business savvy few thought her capable of. Perhaps she had proved a woman could be athletic, beautiful and intelligent. As the director of her own franchise, she was living proof.

And yet, Trish had always slept soundly in the knowledge that the door was always open to the company. As far as she had come in fashion, she knew her extended wrestling family would always welcome her back with open arms. She may have parted with Mr. McMahon on less than pleasant terms, but their relationship had improved over the ensuing moths. And Trish knew, that no matter what happened, the WWE would always be her family. She would always have a place backstage with the guys _and_ the girls. After all, her husband's name and legacy aside, she was Trish _fucking _Stratus. A legend in professional wrestling.

With all that in mind, Mrs. Orton had indeed returned to the company, albeit in a slightly different capacity than she had originally envisaged. She was a General Manager. As the head of Monday Night RAW, the flagship of the company had surpassed goals even larger than those she had seen as a member of the roster. It had been a bittersweet return for many reasons, but she had delivered in her role with all the ability and diligence as she had shown as a wrestler.

But it seemed her time as GM was destined to be short lived. And now, after all things were considered, Trish was finally beginning to understand that she wouldn't be back. Not this time.

Her pregnancy was close to entering its eighth month, and it was finally time to retire for good. No matter what happened from here on out, Trish instinctively knew that this was the end. After tonight, she would no longer be Trish Stratus, former wrestler and fitness model and incumbent RAW General Manager. She would be Patricia Orton. Wife and soon-to-be mother. The knowledge that she was soon to welcome her child into the world didn't give much solace on this night.

Waves of nostalgia had gripped Trish all day long. From her meeting with Vince McMahon to hand in her resignation, to her informal conversation with the entire company roster in the afternoon to let them all know. Every face, every sight and sound and smell evoked long forgotten memories of Trish's tenure with the company. Mercifully, these memories would last forever for Trish. It simply meant that tonight, there would be one more of those treasures to add to the list.

It had started with Vince's acceptance of Trish's resignation. The Chairman of the Board explained that he had been expecting it for some time, and clearly held no ill-will towards Mrs. Orton. Indeed, all that Vince required from Trish was a tender hug, and to ask her permission to attend her baby-shower on the weekend. Trish readily agreed, finding that somehow her relationship with Vince was only going to improve more as she left the business. It was ironic, not to mention insanity-inducing for Trish. It took her retirement from the world of professional wrestling to finally have an understanding with the maniacal billionaire.

The talent had taken the news fairly well. Tears and hugs were shared with Diva and Superstar alike, all under the watchful eye of Randy Orton. His soft smile radiated pride and admiration for his wife. The 'Legend Killer' wasn't one for having heroes. Indeed, he felt people should see him as a hero, rather than he hold others in higher esteem than himself. But the exception to that rule was his wife.

Trish truly was his hero. Her passion and grace, tempered with her dedication and heart made her everything he aspired to be. Randy knew now more than ever, that no matter how under-prepared he may feel towards his impending fatherhood, with a mother like Trish Stratus, no child could possibly have a better start at life. Randy decided there and then, that he was going to make sure that their child recognised just what a truly amazing woman his or her mother was.

And now for Mrs. Orton, it had come down to this final evening. There was something oddly comforting to Trish that her final address to a WWE audience was going to take place at a Survivor Series.

It seemed right to her that the Pay-Per-View marked the beginnings as a real name in the wrestling world became the host for her final appearance. Trish couldn't help but smile at the memory of all those years ago. A Sunday evening in 2001, in Greensboro, North Carolina. It was during that match, when the invasion of ECW and WCW had come to an end, that a blonde girl from Toronto Canada had done something no-one though her capable of doing. A fiery young woman, fresh off a return from an injury, had won a six-pack challenge to determine her as the new Women's Champion. That high Trish began on her ascent to greatness.

All these years later, and Trish could still hear the roar of the crowd in her ears. Her legs seemed to twitch softly, the memory of her feet using the top rope as a springboard to plant Ivory with the _Stratusfaction. _Trish could barely hear the three count above the roar of the crowd, but JR, as always had said it best. Watching the playback later that night, JR's words were forever etched in her memory. She certainly hadn't been favourite going into the match, considering the experience of Ivory, Jacqueline and Lita. But Trish had done what no-one thought possible of her. She had captured the first of what would turn out to be seven title reigns. That fact alone had set her above every other woman to step within the squared circle.

And now it was time for it all to end. There was a certain 'full circle' feeling that Trish found oddly comforting. Where it all started, was where it was all about to end. Lost in her reminiscing, Trish felt herself fall back to the start of the broadcast. The voice of a stage hand called to Trish from her memory.

* * *

"_Mrs. Orton?" _

_The young, blonde haired man smiled nervously, clutching a clip-board close to his chest. "It's time."_

_Trish smiled appreciatively. Smoothing down her dress, Trish removed the jacket that had been on her shoulders, as she slowly headed in the direction of the curtain. Silently vowing to keep the tears at bay, Trish wondered if her shaking legs would hold up long enough for her to get beyond the curtain. They had been threatening to give way all evening, but she had managed to stay in control of both her legs and her tears. _

_But being confronted with her final 'farewell' address of the fans, she wondered just how long she would be able to keep it together before her emotions came crashing down around her._

_Taking the smooth metal railing in her hand, Trish slowly made her way up the steps to the staging. The black curtain was the only thing separating her from a hoard of wrestling fans. Tonight they would see a Championship match between Randy Orton and John Cena. Cena, the incumbent champion had fought off every challenge presented to him in recent months, but he had yet to face the young Legend Killer one on one. The crowds had pilled into the arena, firmly behind Trish's husband in their support. The atmosphere was electric, a fact not lost to Trish as she cowered behind the curtain. _

_Knowing that she had a time schedule to keep to, Trish silently hoped to keep her speech to a minimum. Part of her hoped that if she kept it short and sweet, she'd be able to keep herself in check long enough to get backstage. There, she could collapse into a balling heap at her own leisure. As well as that, as the General Manager, Trish knew the importance of time constraints. It wouldn't do for someone in a position of power to monopolise too much air time. Smirking to herself, Trish laughed nervously as decided someone should explain that fact to Mr. McMahon._

_However, with the best will in the world, it seemed that the roster of talent had conspired together to make Trish's final address anything but brief._

_Walking hesitantly out onto the metal staging without her accompanying theme music, Trish was drowned in an unstoppable out-pouring of sound from the fans. Rising to their feet in a show of respect and love, they cheered wildly for the woman who had reinvented women's wrestling to what it was today. More than that, she had steered Monday Night RAW to its highest ratings in a half a decade. Chants of Trish's name overwhelmed her as much as the sight of familiar faces did. Everyone loved her. Everyone respected her. Everyone was going to miss her._

_Surrounding the ring was a sight Trish wouldn't have believed unless she had seen it for herself. Every single superstar in the company surrounded the ring, including several wrestlers to have left the company during Trish's tenure. Their bright faces, be they friend of foe, beamed at Trish. Every single wrestler proudly wore her patented '100 Stratusfaction Guaranteed' tee-shirt. At the announce table the announcers from all three brands had all risen to their feet like superstars, applauding the General Manager and former as a sign of deep respect._

_In the front row, Trish grinned brightly as she recognised the faces of previous women's talent leaning over the security rail. Ivory, Molly, Stacy Kiebler, Lita and Jacqueline were on their feet, wielding a huge 'Trish is a Dish' sign. Next to them, Gail Kim, Sable, Christy Hemme and Jazz were also on their feet, cheering wildly for their long time peer and friend. Behind them, women wrestlers from all over the globe and a myriad of different wrestling organisations cheered Mrs. Orton, all wearing similar Trish-themed tee-shirts. It was easily the single biggest gathering of female talent every to witnessed, all here to show their respect for the woman who had reinvented women's wrestling. . _

_Sniffing back the tears, Trish's eyes rested on the centre of the ring. In the middle stood a beaming Vince and Linda McMahon, and Trish's own Executive Assistant Lana Matthews. Flanked by Stephanie and Shane McMahon, along with their respective partners, they all smiled broadly at Trish, joining in with the applause. _

_But what perhaps touched Trish the most, in the midst of this once in a life time dream-moment, was the sight of her husband. Stood just at the left of Vince, his eyes glittered with unshed tears as he proudly regarded his wife and the reaction she deserved. His chiselled form was hidden behind a tight black tee-shirt. Across the front in bold white, 'Mr. Trish Stratus' was emblazoned. With his chest thrust forward, he proudly displayed his tee-shirt for everyone to see._

_Feeling the tears spill down over her cheeks, Trish held her hand to her mouth, unable to process everything in front of her. The cheers continued, broadcast live to any number of countries. The out-pouring of emotion showed no signs of stopping, as Trish paced the staging waving to the capacity crowd._

_Finally, stage hand appeared, a microphone in one hand, a tissue in the other. Trish accepted them both gratefully, dabbing at the tears rolling over her cheeks. She raised the microphone to her lips, using the momentary control of her emotions to its full effect. Her voice faltered softly as spoke, choked by emotions from her years with the company which spilled forth in earnest. "I honestly don't know what to say right now. The words 'thank you' don't seem to cover the love everyone has shown me tonight."_

_The crowd cheered even louder that had been before. The noise was so loud that Trish wondered if the roof would literally be torn off the building. "In all my time with this great company, I never imagined I would ever be standing before you all, my friends." Trish smiled down at the ring at the wrestlers gathered. Gesturing to the crowd she spoke again. "And my extended family."_

_Breaking into a loud 'Trish' chant which the superstars joined in on, Trish smiled out at the capacity audience. "It has been my honour to come out here every single night in front of crowds around the world. I've been welcome into arenas, states, countries and homes. I only hope that I've been able to entertain you all as much as you have supported me. You've all been with me from the beginning. You've seen my highs and lows, and everything in between. You've given me strength when I felt I wasn't good enough. You've supported me when I felt like I simply couldn't do it anymore."_

_Trish smiled gently. "You cheered my name when I needed it, and I hope that I've shared with you every single in the victory of my career. I can't ever give back what every single person has given me over the years. Saying good bye to you all…again…is harder than you can ever know. But you will all be in my heart for the rest of my life. I am blessed and truly humbled by everything I have experienced. And all I can say to each and every one of you here tonight, and watching at home, is…" Trish faltered for a moment as a wave of emotion gripped her. "…thank you."_

_Trish smiled briefly, a playful light in her eyes. "Thank you for the memories. I don't know about you guys, but I know I have been well and truly Stratusfied. Love to you all. Good night."_

_Waving softly at the crowd, Trish slowly knelt down, placing the microphone flat against the staging as the crowd reached decibels unheard of in any kind of entertainment. Carefully standing once more, Trish took what she knew would be her last look at a WWE audience from the stage. Blowing a kiss at the crowd, Mrs. Orton disappeared behind the curtain. It was at this point that Trish finally knew, she would never be set foot beyond the curtain again._

* * *

Resting against a box that was used to transport technical equipment, Trish sniffed as a single tear tumbled over her cheek. Brushing it away as quickly as she could, Trish plastered a smile across her lips for no-one in particular. Folding her arms across her chest, she glanced up as she became aware of the other presence near here. 

Hands resting loosely in the pockets of his pants, the tender smile relaxed Trish even at a distance. His purple tinted hair was still damp from a shower, and was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Stretching her arm out, Trish pulled Jeff Hardy into a tender embrace. Burying her head into his shoulder, Trish couldn't help but sob all over again. It was almost as though she were grieving for a love one. For Jeff's part, he gently wrapped his arms around her back, making gentle soothing murmurs as he rubbed her back.

When she finally pulled back, Trish giggled softly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "You okay butterfly?"

Trish smiled softly as Jeff moved to lean next to her. Dropping her head she rested it softly on Jeff's shoulder, who in turn rested his head on the top of hers. "I'm alright. I think. I just can't believe it's finally over. Even after I left, somewhere deep inside I knew I wasn't over…I knew I'd be back."

"You don't have that feeling this time." Jeff had a knack for understanding Trish. He could pre-empt what she was saying. In another lifetime, that quality had made their relationship the magical experience that it was. Now, it made Mrs. Orton value Jeff as a close friend like few others.

"I don't. It scares me Jeff." Trish admitted softly. "I know it really is over this time. And I don't know if I'm ready to accept that."

Smiling softly, Jeff lovingly put his arm around Trish. Being this close to someone he loved stirred to life old feelings that he had fought to keep buried. Jeff knew he could never act on those feelings, and that would never be the guy for Trish again. But that didn't stop him from feeling he way he did. Jeff just had to learn how to make peace with his heartache. "You'll be okay butterfly. I know it."

His soft southern intones let Trish feel a level of calm that has escaped her all evening. "You sound certain Hardy. I wish I had your level of confidence."

Smiling, Jeff looked down into Trish's eyes. "You know it too. It's hard today, sure. But you make it through. You'll always do. Giving up your dream is one thing Trish, but look at what you're it for."

Trish fell silent as she contemplated what Jeff was saying to her. "You have a husband who is crazy about you. Randy is going to take care of you for the rest of your life, and you're going to love him just as long. And you're about to become a family butterfly. Bringing a new life into the world? I can't think of anything more amazing or rewarding. None of this stuff that we do compares."

Trish smiled serenely, sliding her arm around Jeff's waist. "You're right Jeff. I'm having separation issues is all. That, am I'm having a mini-breakdown about having a baby."

Jeff smirked. "It's a little late for second thoughts now."

Playfully punching his arm, Trish licked her lips. "I don't mean like that Jeff. I'm thrilled that I'm about to be a Mom, and that I'm having Randy's baby. I guess I just have a case of the jitters. First time mother and all. Not to mention the fact I couldn't seem to stay conscious for more than two minutes during the pregnancy."

Jeff's eyebrows rose. Licking his bottom lip, he stared down at Trish, a knowing expression on his face. "That's because you worked yourself too hard. You passing out was your body trying to tell you to slow down butterfly. Not to mention to take it easy. It's about time you did it what you were told."

"I know, I know." Trish replied. Holding up her free hand as though in defeat. "I have to be a slob. I'm surprising okay with it now." Grinning, Trish felt her body sag slightly. "We're going to be okay, right Jeff? I mean me and Randy as parents. We'll be good at it, won't we?"

Tightening his grip, Jeff pulled Trish into a tight hug. It was the hardest thing in the world to see Trish unsure, not to mention doubting herself. Doubt was the epitome of everything Trish wasn't. Still, she was human just like everyone else. She'd feel lost sometimes. It was up to her friends to help her see her way clear. "You will be amazing parents butterfly. You don't need me to tell you that. This baby is very lucky you have you as a mother. And Randy will make a great father. You wouldn't be having this baby if you didn't already know all this."

"Are you ever wrong?" Trish enquired, an amused smile curving her lips.

"No." Jeff replied, planting a kiss on Trish's forehead.

Opening her mouth to respond, Trish was quietened at the commotion coming from the adjoining corridor, at end of the hall. A chorus of voices in shouts and bellows preceded a blur of referees, EMTs and other personnel rushing past and out of Trish's sight. Standing up, Trish squinted as she tried to get a better look, taking a few steps towards the corridor.

She need not have bothered however, as she recognised the brunette woman charging towards her at full speed. Taking a detour down the corridor because she had spotted Trish, the RAW Executive Assistant hurried in the Canadian's direction as fast as her leg would carry her. "Lana, what's wrong?"

Lana slowed to a halt at Trish's enquiry, her chest heaving with the exertion. "It's Randy…" she panted. "He's…hurt…suspected…concussion…" Lana managed through laboured breaths. "They're taking…him to the…hospital."

Looking over Lana's shoulder, Trish caught sight of the stretcher carrying her husband being wheeled along. Feeling Jeff's hand take her own, Trish looked up into his green eyes. "C'mon butterfly. You can ride with him."

Taking off as quickly as she could given her condition, Trish hurried along the corridor after the convoy of medical personnel. Lana had run off ahead to catch up the group, informing them of Trish's intention.

Managing to catch up with them, Trish slowed down to a slight walk as an ambulance was being wheeled backwards into the loading bay. Immediately at Randy's side, Trish took his nearest hand between her own. His head and neck were strapped in a collar with his upper torso strapped to the board. Fearing the worst, Trish looked down into the unfocused eyes of her husband.

Clearly groggy, Randy tried his best to concentrate on his wife. His speech was slightly slurred, as though he had just this second been roused out of a deep sleep "Hey baby girl. You made it." Randy smiled weakly as he lifted Trish's hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of her hand.

"I'm here Randy. I'm coming with you all the way." Trish smiled, squeezing Randy's hand in her own.

"That's right," Randy drawled. "Because I'm the champ. Did you see I beat Cena? You're looking that the new Champion of…of…" Seemingly lost for words, Randy's eyes moved as though he were drugged. "…not sure what of. But I'm the champ of it."

A concerned look on her face, Trish looked up as the trainer next to her spoke. "He'll be okay Mrs. Orton. We think it's just a light concussion. He landed a little awkwardly on the back of his neck. We're just taking him to the hospital to get it checked out. I wouldn't be concerned."

"Yeah baby. Don't be concerned. I'm fine. And when we get home, you and I are going celebrate." Randy smiled adorably, causing Trish to chuckle.

"Don't get too excited baby. All this stress is likely to put me in the bed next you." Trish smiled, brushing her hair back from her face. The joke was obviously lost on her husband, who was carefully loaded into the back of the ambulance.

"Trish?" Randy called softly. Accepting the help from two EMTs, Trish climbed into the back of the ambulance to join her husband.

"I'm right here Randy." Trish assured, taking his hand once more.

"You should stay," he said. "Tonight is your last night. You should stay here and enjoy it."

"Don't be silly Randy. I'm coming to the hospital with you." Glancing back at the arena, Trish sighed wistfully as the ambulance doors were closed on the arena for the last time. Turning back to face Randy, Trish looked down into his crystal blue eyes, and suddenly felt centred. "It's okay baby. Everything's going to be okay now. I promise."

Knowing that she was leaving the arena for the last time, Trish finally found herself okay with the notion. After all, she was with Randy who needed her now more than normal. And as long as she had Randy Orton, Trish knew nothing else would matter. It was the end of _her_ era, but the start of _their_ family.

Trish smiled as she realised what Jeff had been trying to explain to her. It was a fair trade after all.


	20. Day by Day

_**A/N:**_**Updated. As promised, here is the next update for the story. Well boys and girls, we're coming to the end of **_**'All That Glitters' **_**and I'm a little despondent. As you guys know, this particular Randy and Trish relationship was my first on FF. I've been reluctant to let them go, hence the little trilogy that I've began.**

**Based on what you guys have told me in reviews, messages and e-mails etc, I've decided to definitely go forward with the sequel. I have a few exciting ideas planned for it, ones which I hope you guys will enjoy.**

**However, first comes the end of this story. Based on my outline, I've got two chapters and an epilogue left to write. This particular chapter is probably the biggest I've ever come up with. I apologise if you guys' find it too long, but there was to logical place to split it. It's sort of a bridge between the last chapter and the next. **

**I hope you guys enjoy this. Please read and review! Hopefully the next update will be next weekend. I disclaim!**

* * *

"Orton, I swear to god if you don't stay still I'm going to give you another concussion!"

Hands resting firmly on her lips, Trish glared down at her fidgeting husband. Perched on the edge of a chair in front of her, he had his arms folded tightly across his chest. Both his soft pink lips pouted, mirroring the expression glinting in the deep crystal blue pools of his eyes. The couple were in their bedroom, moments away from what was going to be one of the best afternoons in Trish's life.

A few days had passed since Randy had been discharged from the hospital. He had been diagnosed with a mild concussion after the brutal sixty-four minute match with John Cena. Randy had also managed to bruise two separate ribs, and aggravate his shoulder injury considerably in addition to the concussion, just to tarnish his win a little.

It was because of these injuries, or at least allegedly so, that Orton had been given a leave of absence by Mr. McMahon. Secretly, Randy suspected Vince was giving him the chance to be at home with his heavily pregnant wife. Despite the fact he was the new World Heavyweight Champion, Randy had been sent home. Not that the Champion had complained of course. The last time he had been given fourteen days off the WWE schedule, the circumstances had been somewhat more severe. Indeed, it had bee a pivotal moment of the young Legend Killer's career where he had almost lost his job.

Accepting the time off granted by Mr. McMahon in earnest, Randy had been allowed to travel back home to his house in St. Louis. More importantly, he was able to spend time with his wife.

Apart from his own injuries, Randy was glad that Vince had given him a brief respite. The management had promised to cover the promotion and duties associated with being the champion for as long as they could, so he was free of worries over neglecting his job. And Randy was thankful for that. With Trish as far along as she was in her pregnancy, he wanted to spend every waking moment with his wife. It would be nice to focus on her entirely, for a change. In fact, he was at her side every single hour of the day. Whether she wanted it or not.

For Trish's part, she felt a little crowded. Indeed, Randy wouldn't even let her go to the bathroom without sitting outside, making sure she was okay and didn't need assistance. Given that level of intrusion, Trish never let on that she was having personal space issues. In a way, she was touched by the concern Randy was showing, even if it was a shown in a strange manifestation. In truth, Trish simply liked having him at home with her. If that meant she had to put with him constantly hovering around her at all times day and night? Well it was a small price to pay. Randy's presence made her feel safe and secure, something she seemed to crave a lot more recently.

Of course, the added bonus of being back home was the fact that Trish could have her own baby-shower in her back yard. Originally, the event had been booked for a restaurant in the heart of New York City. Despite the glamour and glitz, Trish really didn't feel up to waddling into one of the trendiest restaurants in town to have her girlfriends squealing around her. Instead, she could celebrate the shower with a group of her dearest friends at home.

It seemed to be planned to perfection. They picked a perfect day in November, by all accounts. The sun was warm and bright, with a gentle autumn breeze in the air. The weather perhaps was a little un-seasonal for the time of year, but Trish was thankful for small mercies. The sky remained a deep blue, and devoid of any and all clouds. As it appeared to be determined to remain that way, that was one of many small concerns out of the way of the party.

Concerns were the order of the day however. Trish had woken up early, watching in earnest as a fleet of unmarked cars, jeeps and trucks started filling into her street. With no explanation from her friends or family, Trish was resigned to watch as hoards of people with boxes of all shapes and sizes had emerged from the vehicles. Converging on their backyard, Trish began to think that it looked more like a base for military operations as opposed to a baby shower.

And her husband was no help. Randy, who was clearly in on the plans for the day, had done his best to keep Trish away from the backyard. Even when several burly workmen had marched over their front lawn to the side of the house, wielding polished metal scaffolding as well as construction tools. Realising he would have his job cut out for him, Randy had even gone so far as to hang sheets over the windows and doors just so that all views were blocked from Mrs. Orton's prying eyes. Although she wasn't thrilled she was being kept in the dark, Trish couldn't deny that she was touched by all the effort.

Now, having been told that shed could head out to the backyard in thirty minutes time, excitement had gripped Trish like a fever. Changing her outfit no less than eight times, she had finally settled on a pair of loose fitting, boot cut jeans and a floaty white top. Its sleeves were large and hung easily around her arms, as it rested off the shoulder. The loose material hung delicate around her swollen tummy, hinting at the mound beneath. Not despondent to the fact that she could no longer where tight-fitting garments, Trish had selected a pair of extremely expensive Gucci high-heels to with the occasion. They hurt her feet so much that she knew they would have to come off very soon. But she would be _the _Trish Stratus if she didn't make a fabulous entrance. Pregnancy be damned.

Now finally dressed, all that was left for Trish to consider was the matter of husband. Dressed immaculately in a pair of denim jeans and a crisp white shirt, he looked indescribably handsome. The way the bottom few buttons remained undone on his shirt gave Trish a whole host of erotic thoughts that threatened to ignite her already burning temperature. Randy Orton was perfect.

Well, almost.

It seemed that even though his body was on the mend, the battle with John Cena at Survivor Series was determined to leave more obvious memories. Case in point, Randy had earned himself a particularly nasty looking bruise around his left eye.

Although much of the swelling had gone down since Sunday, the deep tones of purple and black still coloured his normally flawless tanned skin. Usually, Trish had no problem with bruises on the face of herself or her husband. Not even when they were forever committed to existence in pictures. Indeed, Trish would wear all her bumps and bruises as a mark of pride. They were badges of honour, earned from their shared profession as professional wrestlers.

Blame the pregnancy, or the importance placed on the day, but Trish couldn't seem to cope with the big bruise on Randy's face. Knowing people were going to be taking endless pictures, she was somehow not prepared to let Randy be shown sporting an ugly bruise in the reminders of this day for the rest of their lives. To this end, Trish had led him to their bedroom and sat him down. Reaching for her foundation, she had tried to cover the mark up with make-up. Catching on immediately as to what his wife was planning, it seemed that Randy Orton was having none of it.

"Trish," he whined, "I am not wearing make-up to your baby shower. Do you know what the guys would say about me if they saw with me make-up on?"

"They are not going notice Randy. It's not like I'm asking you to wear glitter and lip gloss is it?" Trish replied. "And even if they did notice a little bit of foundation, what does it matter? This day is supposed to be for me right?" Randy nodded mutely, not enjoying the layer of guilt Trish spread over him as easily as spreading butter. "Then for me, will you please just let me cover up that bruise. I don't want to look back at this day in years to come to see my husband with a big bruise on his handsome face. It wouldn't do you justice baby."

Obviously immune to flattery, Randy shook his head again. "I'm sorry baby. I love you, but it really is not going happen. Take me as I am, or not all." Tilting his head, Randy stayed steadfast in his defiance.

"You really won't let me cover it up?" Trish hoped Randy would somehow give in as she pouted her own lips, giving the best bedroom eyes she was capable. Randy looked distinctly unimpressed, holding his own stance. "There's nothing I can say to convince you to do this one thing for me?" Randy shook his head again.

Trish signed heavily. "Fine." Throwing the compact on their bed, she stalked across the room, silent in her fury. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Randy straightened in his seat. As much as she would do anything for his wife, sometimes the answer would just have to be no. This was a matter of masculinity. He could not wear his wife's make-up in front of his friends and family. The shame would never go away. Trish would to compromise on this, and have to accept it. Bruise and all.

Sat on the bed, with her back to Randy, Trish continued to fume. Arms folded across her swollen tummy, her fingers drummed against her upper arms as she plotted. Slowly, a devious smile crept over her lips. If there was anything Trish knew how to do, it was to get something out of her husband. No matter how much he protested he wouldn't do something, Trish knew very well he would. She just had to push the right buttons. Already with a plan of attack, she put on the best serious face she could muster.

Standing up from their bed, she flicked her hair over her shoulder. Taking a few steps to a set of drawers next to the bed, Trish knelt down to pick up the waste paper basket that was hidden beneath. Exhaling with effort as she stood back up, Trish silently reminisced of the days when she could actually bend over to pick things up. Placing the waste-paper basket on the bed, she smiled sweetly at Randy. Knowing his wife almost too well, Randy cocked an eyebrow. "Baby, what are you doing?"

"Just a little spring cleaning baby. Throwing out a few old things I'm not going to need anymore." Flashing him a winning smile, Trish pulled out the drawer at the top of the set.

Its importance was not lost on Randy, who knew very well what was kept in the drawer. Despite his effort to remain stubborn, he couldn't help but crane his neck to see what Trish was doing. "You're aware it's not spring, right baby girl? It's November."

Trish simply smiled. Reaching into the drawer, her hand reappeared. Twisted between her fingers was a lacy black bra, one Randy had bought for her on a trip to Europe. Smiling brightly at Randy, Trish simply dropped it into the waste basket. Randy started a little, his eyebrows knitted into confusion.

Licking her lips, Trish reached into the drawer again. This time, she brought out a pair of crimson French knickers. Hooking them over her thumb, Trish admired them for herself for a moment. Turning to face Randy, she simply shrugged before tossing them to join the bra in the waste paper basket. Randy couldn't help but let his jaw slacken at the massacre taking place before his eyes. Resting his hand on the bed, he leaned across to watch Trish.

Both his crystal blue eyes widened to almost bursting point as Trish disposed of his favourite leopard-print corset. Groaning softly, Randy's mind raced with a myriad of erotic thoughts. A mixture of memories of tearing the corset of Trish's body, sometimes with his teeth, along with fantasises he had yet to try out, raced through his head.

The final straw was about to come however. Trish smirked to herself as she spotted the one thing she knew Randy would never be able to part with. Reaching her hand into the drawer, she tightened her grasp before pulling it back out again. Gasping in abject horror, Randy could only watch as Trish held a particularly skimpy thong between her thumb and fore finger. Trish couldn't honestly remember why she had bought it. It was entirely too small, and was practically see-through. It didn't cover anything, and was uncomfortable as hell.

And yet, it drove Randy Orton to distraction. He could try and resist Trish, but never when she was wearing _the_ thong. The longest he had ever gone was a full seven minutes before dragging Trish off somewhere to ride her like a man possessed. She giggled softly, as she remembered those seven minutes. It had been at a Hall of Fame ceremony a few years ago. Randy had been sat to her left, and she had been forced to scoot past him in order to reach the bathroom.

Somehow, her skirt had shifted up slightly, and Orton had been on the receiving end of a face full of Trish rear end, exploding out of the thong. Randy had lasted the seven minutes it had taken to watch the next award before leaping out of his seat and tearing after Trish. Suffice to say, the pair had missed the final two awards.

Randy clearly recognised the thong as Trish paraded it. Moving her hand, she held it over the waste-paper basket, enjoying the expressions crossing over Randy's face as she did so. It was like watching him have an inner struggle, the battle painted all over his face, as he tried to decide which was more important. His manly pride? Or his lover's body in _that_ thong. Trish had no need to wait as he pounced forward, snatching the thong out of her grasp. Holding it tight to his chest, he pouted up at Trish. Sighing with indignation, Randy's head dropped compliantly.

"Just get it over with woman." Giggling, Trish reached for her compact.

Finally making their way downstairs, Trish gripped Randy's hand in her own as they stepped before their backdoor. Stepping behind Trish, Randy wrapped one arm around her as he reached for the nearest sheet. Leaning his head closer to her ear, his voice purred. "You ready for this?"

"Just…hold my hand." Trish chuckled nervously, squeezing Randy's hand in her own. Planting a kiss on her temple, he pulled the billowing white sheet free of the door.

Trish immediately felt her jaw slacken, and had to be guided into the yard by Randy.

Standing at the back of her house, Trish was lost for words. Directly opposite her, an arch of metal had been constructed. Spread across it was a large white banner, with _'Congratulations Randy and Trish' _printed in bold gold and red colours. Hanging down the inside of the arch was a ruffled black curtain. The curtain reached all the way down to the wooden staging that had been constructed.

From the centre of the stage, a second stage jutted forward in a straight line, resembling a fashion catwalk. At the end and on either side of the catwalk, long tables were set out. Covered in crisp ivory coverings, the seats were filled by friends and family of the expectant couple. Trish's limp hand waved weakly in response to the enthusiastic waves coming from both sets of their parents. Friends and colleagues from the wrestling world were sat around the tables, all grinning at the touched expression Trish's face.

The table which stood at the front of the catwalk had two empty seats, each obviously reserved for Mr and Mrs Orton. Allowing Randy to lead her forward, Trish took the seat that he held out for her. On her immediate left sat Jeff Hardy, who pulled her into a warm embrace. No sooner had she sat down, than had her friend Lisa's head appeared from behind the black curtain. Known better in the wrestling world as the vixen 'Victoria', her face was creased into a knowing smile. "Sit your ass down pregnant lady, and enjoy. Hit the music monkey boy."

From Trish far right, David Bautista made a less than pleasant gesture in Lisa's direction, as he clicked the 'play' button on the nearby CD player. A dance remix of Mariah Carey's _'Honey'_ blared from the connected speakers dotted around the staging. Continuing to grin, Lisa raised her voice to be heard over the din of the music. "Ladies and gentleman…and those of you who ain't quite sure. Vito baby, if you missed that last part, I meant you honey." The assembled crowd chuckled as Vito waved at Lisa.

"Friends and family of the moose sat over there," Lisa winked at Trish, "and those of you responsible for bringing that man into this world," the raven haired woman stuck her tongue out at Randy, "it is my pleasure to welcome you all to the greatest show on earth. Yes, today you will witness the greatest spectacle in the entire world. Today, you will see…Trish Stratus' Seven Deadly Sins!"

Trish's brow furrowed in confusion as Lisa disappeared behind the curtains. The crowd cheered in good nature, just as Lisa reappeared. Stepping out from behind the curtain, she was dressed in a stunning black evening dress which clung to all her feminine curves. Walking leisurely to the left side of the main staging, she smirked as she received wolf whistles. Smiling at Trish, she began to speak. "Ladies and gentleman, I give you Trish's first sin…the sin of _gluttony_! In other words, my friend Trish, the moose-sized fat lady."

Parts of the crowd gasped in shock at Lisa's tongue, others cheered her for her particular brand on humour.

In any event, from behind the curtain, Amy Dumas appeared. Dressed in a black baby-tee, she grinned at Trish. Across her chest, the words _"Trish's Seven Deadly Sins" _was splashed, along with the word '_Gluttony'_. In her hands, she clutched a photo frame, the picture of which was hidden from view, pressed against her stomach. Making her way down the catwalk, she stopped at the end, posing in front of Trish. Turning to her husband, Trish saw Randy's amused smile. He gave nothing away, so Trish turned back to face Amy. The red head turned the frame around to show a picture of Trish.

It had obviously been taken recently, considering the size of her swollen stomach. In one hand, Trish held a donut which looked as though it were being mashed into her face. Judging by the vigour in which the image showed she had been eating, Mrs. Orton had obviously been unaware that the picture was being taken. The crowd around her chuckled, as Trish felt colour rise to her cheeks. Obviously sensing his wife's embarrassment, Randy slung a loving arm around her shoulders, hugging him close to her.

Lisa it appeared, was in her element. "Now Trish, sweetie. I'm all for women empowerment and girls eating whatever the hell they want to cram down their throats. Fight the man, and don't count the calories!" Several females in the audience as cheered, as Trish could only fear what was coming next. "But my god girl, what the hell were doing? Pregnancy or not, did you even plan on chewing that bad boy, or were you just going to swallow it whole, fist and all?"

Shaking her head, in mortification more than anything else, Trish avoided eye contact with just about everyone. Knowing where to draw the line, Lisa chuckled. "Trish, you know how to enjoy yourself and spend some quality time. So, in honour of your varied gluttonies behaviour, now you can really treat yourself with your first gift."

Amy smiled as she stepped down towards Trish. Reaching into the back of her jeans, she pulled free a crisp white envelope which she placed on the table in front of Mrs. Orton. Snatching it up, Trish tore it open, using the paper inside to cover her burning red face. From the stage, Lisa called out to Trish. "That's right. Trish, you've won yourself an all expenses paid trip to the beautiful island of Maui. There, you're going to spend a weekend in a health spar where you will be pampered. You can be lazy till your big ass is content." Trish thanked Amy, before looking back to the staging, silently terrified of what was to come next.

The afternoon continued in the similar vein, with several members of Trish's friends and family appearing on the stage, each representing one of Trish's 'sins'. They had ranged from Candice Michelle representing pride to Lisa portraying wrath. During her performance, Candice had impressed upon the audience Trish's legendary status as a seven-time Women's Champion and her place in the future Hall of Fame.

Lisa however, had highlighted how badly Trish had beaten several men and women in the company beyond belief in her capacity as wrath.

Eventually relaxing into the event, Trish was having a wonderful time. Although her friend revelled in duty as host, and embarrassing Trish at every opportunity, it was all done in good spirit. Besides which, Trish had earned herself presents, which was never a bad thing.

It seemed Lisa had been saving the best for last however. With all six _sins_ standing side by side on the staging, it was time for the final _sin_ to be presented. Taking centre stage, Lisa grinned down at Trish. "And now Trish, it's time to meet quite possibly your biggest sin. It's definitely one you bring out in other people, but you've displayed it yourself on more than on occasion girlfriend. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Trish Stratus' final deadly sin. The sin of lust!"

The crowd went into a cheering frenzy, as Trish giggled softly. Her face fell however, as another figure appeared from behind the curtain.

Trish hadn't even realised Randy had slipped from her side, at least until he had appeared on the stage. Dressed in a police officer's uniform, he stepped forward, much to the appreciation of the females members in the crowd. Posing and strutting, Orton made a show of sliding his sun glassed down over the bridge of his nose. His crystal blue eyes sparkled at the crowd assembled before him, an arrogant smirk curving his pink lips. The blue police officer's shirt was stretched impossibly tightly over Randy's body, so much so that it couldn't be fastened properly. His chest and abdomen was displayed in all their separate glory, as Randy waved a pair of handcuffs suggestively in his hand.

Parading down the main catwalk, he motioned for Trish to join him on stage. Shaking her head, Trish could scarcely believe her eyes. Obviously, not taking no for an answer, Randy jumped down from the stage and marched over to Trish. Taking her by the hand, he led her on the stage, where someone had already placed a chair.

Sitting her down, Randy smirked as he took a step back. Nodding at Batista, the yard was filled with the pounding beat of the Pussycat Doll's hit single, _'Buttons'_. The gathered friends and family began cheering as Randy slowly began to grind his hips, his backside presented to Trish as wound it expertly.

Turning to face Trish, he removed the sunglasses from his eyes, tossing them aside. Immediately, his hands reached for the remaining buttons on his shirt, and slowly began to loosen them. The shirt gave away easily, exposing Randy's torso to the blushing Trish. Reaching forward, Randy took her hands in his own, and slowly guided her palms down over his chest and abdomen. The tanned skin was hard with defined muscle, but covered in oil to show the deep etches of definition.

Taking his shirt off entirely, Randy stretched it out between his legs, grinding back and forth across the stretched material. Girls screamed, and men cheered in humour as Randy smirked, lapping up the attention. Tossing it out to the seat crowd, one of Trish's cousins squealed in delight as she caught it. Leaning closer to Trish, Randy moved his face into Trish's chest. His tongue found the crevice between her breasts, exploring the way up her neck to the lobe of her ear. Pulling back, he winked at Trish.

Dancing around his wife, Randy gripped the waist band of his trousers. In one swift move, he ripped them free of his legs. Clearly fastened by velcro, the legend killer was left in a simple black thong, covering what little existed of his modesty.

Randy threw the pants to the ground as he continued to dance, now moving around to be in front Trish. Wearing only a black thong, bent over in front of Trish, to touch his hands to the ground. Trish shrieked in mock horror as the rounds of Randy's buttocks thrust their way back and forth in front of her face. Standing back up, Randy moved as though he were going to remove the thong, much to the loud cheers from the females present. He made a show of sliding the garment down over his thigh, and Trish clasped a hand to her mouth to stop her from screaming. Rand was clearing more than willing to go the entire way, but was stopped as Lisa ran forward. Wrapping a length of material around his waist, she jabbed Randy in the chest to move him aside as the female members of the crowd booed in earnest.

Kneeling down next to Trish, Lisa grinned softly. "What possessed you to marry _that _guy? Massive penis or not, the guy's a tool."

Her skin flushed an intense pink, Mrs. Orton could not believe what she had just been a part of. Despite the fact her husband had been stripped and dancing like a hooker in a thong, he had done it front of his friends and family, including her own mother. Not able to offer any explanation, Trish could only giggle as she pulled her friend into a hug.

* * *

"Stripper my ass." Trish chuckled softly.

Night had fallen on the Orton household. The baby shower had ended, and the majority of the guests had departed. The final few members of the clean up crew had now dispersed, removing the final traces of the event that had taken place that afternoon.

Candice Michelle, Lisa and Melina had stayed longer to help Trish move her presents inside. She'd received a considerable amount, and was thankful for all the effort put in by the people closest in her life.

Indeed, her good mood had been such that Trish had agreed to let Randy go out into town with the boys. The usual suspects of the locker room had invited her husband out for a 'guys' night, to celebrate his impending fatherhood. Trish agreed to lift his 'no alcohol' ban for the evening, much to the excitement of Randy. Promising he wouldn't be out late, he had left Trish with her friends. Knowing full well he would return completely wasted, Trish could only smile as she relaxed for the rest of the evening with her friends. Candice had even been good enough to massage Trish's lower back, which had been plaguing her all afternoon. It stood to reason, that with the added weight of an Orton baby in her stomach, a lot more stress was going to be placed on Trish's spine.

The evening had been relaxed and easy, with the girls sharing fruit smoothies and talking about their own future as wives and mothers. Candice had even announced that John Cena had proposed to her recently. Trish couldn't have been happier for her two friends, and wished Candice every happiness. Even Lisa admitted that she was craving some kind of stability from her boyfriend of eight months Chris Masters, who had asked her to move in with him. It seemed that Diva's locker room was finally starting to settle down. It was a notion Trish found strangely comforting.

Now, with all her gifts inside, it was time for the girls depart. The RAW brand was flying to another the morning, and so the girls had to head back to their hotels. Their flight was early, and each had to pack. Not to mention the fact that Melina had babbled on about her need for a decent beauty sleep.

"I thought he gave a pretty decent show," Melina smiled, as she finished the last of the chocolate cake that had been made for the day. "Randy can definitely move his hips in a great way. Maybe I should see if he's willing can give me a private dance? I bet he'd love to have a few dollars in the waistband."

"You realise I am never going to hear the end of this." Trish sighed in mock exasperation. "He's going to think he's a freaking Chippendale with the reaction he got from the crowd. And I'm not sure how I feel about the sight of my husband in a black thong. Especially when he looks better in it that I do."

Lisa snorted with laughter as she pulled open the front door to Trish's home. Candice and Melina each hugged Trish, before filing out of the door onto the porch. "That's just life with a gay-husband Trish. You'll get used to it. When he starts wearing your lipstick, then you should be concerned." Hugging Trish tightly who was smiling secretly, Lisa smoothed down the back of her friends blonde hair. "Seriously. Congratulations Trisha. I'm thrilled that you're going to be a Mom. And actually kinda jealous as hell. I'd better be godmother."

Trish giggled, waving as her friends headed down her path to the waiting taxi parked at the curb. "Thanks again for everything guys. You're the best friends a pregnant woman could have. Call me when you get to California." Resting against the door frame, Trish waited until the car had pulled away before thinking about going back inside. Sighing into the cool night air, she stepped back into her house, pushing the front door to a close.

Heading into the kitchen, her lower hand slowly rubbed at her lower back which had started to ache once more. Trish kicked off her shoes, wishing she had been able to reach down to rub her swollen feet.

Filling the kettle with hot water, Trish set it off to boil. Placing a cup down on the surface, her hand gracefully stretched upward towards the cabinet on the wall. A sharp pain in her pelvis stopped her, causing Trish to wince. Gently rubbing her swollen stomach, Trish reached with her other hand to the cupboard. Taking out a herbal tea, she placed it in the cup.

"I think we've had more than enough excitement for one day. We'll drink this and head to bed. We'll be woken up soon enough anyway, when your Daddy comes stumbling back in." Trish smiled softly down at her stomach, as though the baby growing inside could hear her. Pouring the hot water into the cup, she headed out of the kitchen.

As she crossed to enter the hallway, another pain, this time in the core of her hips, forced her to stop. Leaning against the wall for support, Trish gritted her teeth until the pain had subsided. It was brief, but seemed like a lifetime for its duration. Sighing, Trish carefully made her way to the stairs. Leaning against the wall, she took each step once at a time, not rushing herself in fear of another pain. Reaching the next level of her home, she made her way towards her bedroom, the flat of her palm trailing along the wall as she moved.

Still using the wall as a support, she reached around to flick on the light switch. The bedroom became flooded in light. Walking forward, Trish slowly sat down on the bed. Placing her tea on the bedside table, she carefully leant backwards. Her head fell easily down onto the mound of feather pillows.

Exhaling deeply, Trish rested her hands on the swell of her stomach, making gentle circular motions. Almost dropping into sleep, Trish was brought back to full alertness as another wave of pain rode through her. It started as a tight feeling in her pelvis, but didn't remain centred there. It progressed further, as though she were having a menstrual cramp. Clutching her stomach, Trish breathed through clenched teeth. Her breath came out as an angry hiss, as her eyes screwed shut. The pain finally gave away after a few seconds, letting Trish's breathing return to normal.

Forcing herself to sit up, Trish looked down at her legs, only to gasp in horror. The bed below her was soaked through, as though someone had deposited a load of water there. Eyes widening in shock, she realised exactly why the bed was the way it was.

Her waters had broken.

"Labour…I'm going into labour." Trish own voice sounded distant in her own ears. The expectant mother could not deny the tone of dread echoing in her voice.

Reaching over the bedside table, Trish forced herself to remain calm as she grabbed the phone. Holding the receiver up, she methodically punched in Randy's cell phone number. No sooner had she moved her thumb to hit the dial button, when another contraction hit her. This one seemed more painful than the last, actually causing Trish to cry out. The phone fell from her hand, clattering to the floor at the side of the bed. Tears stung her eyes, and Trish sobbed gently.

Something wasn't right. The contractions were coming hard and fast. Too fast, as a matter of fact. Was she in labour? When had it started? Forcing herself to try and think clearly, Trish focused on the breathing techniques Megan had detailed to her.

_The first pain started downstairs, in the kitchen. _

_No, wait. There's been pain in my back since this afternoon. That was three hours ago. Could that have been the start of the labour? _Trish sniffed gently, realising what she had taken to be the baby's weight causing her spine to ache, had actually been the early stages of labour.

Panting, Trish tried to reach for the phone at the side of the bed. The dull ache which exploded into a searing pain in her pelvis stopped her. Choking back a cry of pain, Trish's head fell back against the pillow. Tears burned into her eyes, as her voice came out as a strained whimper. _"Randy…"_

The pain reached levels Trish scarcely knew existed. This was all wrong. As the room began to spin around her, Trish became vaguely aware of someone calling her name.

But it wasn't enough to save her however, as Trish slipped into the waiting arms of unconsciousness.


	21. All That Glitters

**A/N:**** Update. The next chapter for your reading enjoyment boys and girls. Honestly, I can't believe I'm almost at the end of this story. It seemed so far away when I originally began posting it October. And yet, here we are. There is one chapter left, and then the epilogue. Depending on how long the next chapter turns out, I might consider splitting it into two separate parts. But we'll see.**

**Anyways, thank you guys for all your reviews and unwavering support of this story and the ones that preceded it. I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**As an added request, I'd like to know what sex you think the baby will turn out to be. Let me know ;)**

**Please read and review!! **

* * *

Easing his car into the driveway, Jeff Hardy switched off the engine. Next to him, Lana fidgeted with the hem of her dress. Her deep brown eyes stared nervously out into the yard before her, taking sight of the house. Stepping out of his car, Jeff's jade green eyes studied the building before him as Lana had just done. Walking around the front of the car, he pulled the passenger door open. Lana remained seated, looking up at Jeff.

Reaching his hand to her, Jeff's smile was soft and gentle. It reassured Lana to some extent. Taking Jeff's hand in her own, she carefully stepped out of the car, with Jeff quietly closing the door behind her. Still holding one another's hands, the pair made their way up the path. Stepping onto the porch, the couple immediately became bathed in a brilliant light as the security light flicked itself on. Reaching the front door, Jeff's hand lifted, moving towards the polished wood of the door.

"Jeff wait." Lana mumbled. Turning to face her, Jeff's eyebrow arched on his forehead. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, does Trish really want to know that…that…"

Obviously lost for words, Jeff finished the sentence for her. "…that we're dating? I think she'll be happy for us. Unless you don't want her to know."

"That's not it." Lana shook her head softly. "It's just that with my past with Trish and Randy, I don't know how she's going to feel about knowing we're together. I mean I tried to steal her husband once. Now I'm dating her ex. I'm scared it's going to solidify some opinions she has of me being some cheating skank."

Jeff chuckled softly. Wrapping his arms around Lana's body, he pulled her into a tender embrace. The warmth of her skin seeped through his shirt, warming him to the core. Resting his head on her shoulder, the scent of her hair intoxicated him, setting alight a passion in him he though had long since died. In truth, Jeff hadn't felt this way about anyone, not since he and Trish had been together. Now that happiness finally seemed available to him, he wanted to share it with the world. Starting with one of his best friends.

It had been an almost happy accident that he and Lana had gotten together. He hadn't really noticed her around the company. He hadn't actually spoken to her before. The night of the Hall of Fame celebration, Lana had finally plucked up the courage to talk to him. It was ironic, because it was the night Jeff had first noticed her. Dressed in an intense shade of red, she was the most beautiful thing he had seen. From that moment, he'd been hooked. It hadn't started well in that he'd split a drink over the dress. And yet, since that had happen, they'd been inseparable ever since.

They had kept their relationship a secret, from everyone in their lives. Jeff hadn't felt ready to expose his private life to everyone, and Lana had been worried what Trish was going to say. Besides which, questions could be asked about the nature of a relationship between a member of the roster and the General Manager's Executive Assistant.

But that was the past. After seeing how well Randy and Trish had worked in the same circumstances, Jeff had drawn the confidence he needed to tell the world about himself and Lana. Perhaps he had been hiding just a little too long behind excuses in an effort to protect himself from heartbreak. But if seeing Randy and Trish together had taught Jeff anything, it was that sometimes the risk really was worth it. When it came to their relationship, everything that glittered might not exactly be gold, but they were blissfully happy. Who could want more than that?

Jeff had been hoping Trish would still be awake so that they could talk. Besides the news of him and Lana, one of his best friends was due to give birth in the next few weeks, and he felt as though they had yet to have a real conversation about it.

He had been meaning to catch up with her during the baby-shower. But with all the excitement of the event and everyone after Trish's time, he hadn't been able to get the mother to be alone long enough to talk. Now seemed the perfect time to have the conversation.

Pulling back from their embrace, Jeff softly brushed his lips against Lana's. "It's going to be okay Lana. Trust me."

With a relaxed smile, Jeff turned and knocked his knuckles gently against the door. Silence greeted him in return.

Leaning to the side, he attempted to peer through the windows placed on either sides of the door. It looked dark inside, and no activity of any kind was discernible. Knocking the door again, Jeff sighed as he still had no reply.

Sighing in disappointment, Jeff decided to leave it until another day. Turning to leave, he stopped as Lana held his hand, pulling back towards the door.

Turning to look at her, Jeff could see her brow knitted in confusion. "Since when have you ever known Trish to be in bed before midnight?" Lana's explanation caused Jeff to pause. "I know she's pregnant and all, but she's not an early-to-bed kinda girl."

"Maybe the day just got to her. She's probably exhausted. I don't want to wake her up if she is in bed." Jeff shrugged his shoulders. He could imagine how tired his wife was. The last thing he wanted to do was to disturb her slumber.

Lana seemed unconvinced me. "Humour me Jeff. I just want to make sure that she's okay."

Jeff nodded. He wasn't sure why, but he found himself glancing upwards towards the next floor of the St. Louis home. Reaching for the front door, his hand gripped the bronze door-knob. With a gentle flick of his wrist, he turned it.

Much to his surprise, the handle turned completely, and the door opened with a faint click. Sliding his head into the crack of the open door, Jeff peered into the dimly lit hallway. His voice barely above a whisper, he spoke. "Trish?"

Lana had apparently less tact, and pushed straight past Jeff and marched into the front room of the property. It was shadowed in complete darkness. Reaching across the wall, Lana's had found the light-switch. Clicking it on, much of the room and the hallway came into focus. It was empty and dark. "Trish," Lana spoke loudly, "are you down here?"

The slightest twinge of concern that was at first in Lana's stomach now began snowballing into all out panic. Picking up into a light jog, she moved directly past Jeff and headed into the kitchen. It was just as silent as the front room. The only sign that someone had been in here was the open cupboard door. Stepping closer, Lana pressed the back of her hand against the kettle on the work surface that was still switched on. Although cooling rapidly, she could feel the heat from the water inside. Heading back to the hallway, Lana caught up with Jeff who was standing at the foot of the stairs.

Shaking her head to show that Trish wasn't here, Lana carefully put her foot on the first step. "Trish? Are you up there? It's Lana."

No answer. The silence seemed to steal Lana's resolve even more. One foot followed the other as she began ascending the stairs, Jeff in close pursuit behind her. Reaching the landing, Lana peered around. There was light coming from the bathroom and the bedroom. Nodding her head in the direction of the bathroom, Jeff responded by headed that way.

Following the beam of light imprinted across the carpet, Lana stepped next to the bedroom door. Placing both hands flat against the door, Lana gently pushed forward. The door swung open in a graceful arc, displaying the Orton's bedroom entirely. Taking a step in, Lana glanced ahead of her. Her attention was drawn to the bed that was pressed against the wall to her left.

The gaze of Lana's eyes fell immediately on Trish. The bed around her was completely wet. Both of the Canadian's legs were bent at the knees, the soft fold of her dress pooling between her thighs. Her head seemed lost in the red satin pillows behind her. Trish's usual mane of golden blonde hair was a damp mat, clinging to her forehead. Although her eyes were closed, the eyebrows on Trish were knitted in distress, her chest heaving in an affected pattern of breath.

"Oh my god, Trish!" Lana cried. Immediately she was at Trish side, gently cradling her friends head in her hands. Craning her neck over her shoulder, Lana called out to her boyfriend. "Jeff! She's in here!"

Turning her attention back to Trish, Lana did her best to rouse her. "Trish? Trish its Lana. Can you hear me? Trish? C'mon girl, speak to me. That's it…come one." Lana breathed a sigh of relief as Trish's chocolate coloured eyes flickered open. Hazed and unfocused, they fell across Lana's concerned face. Gritting her teeth, a fresh puddle of tears formed in the orbs of her eyes as Jeff appeared next to Lana.

"Jesus, Trish. Are you okay? What's the matter?" Taking her hand, Jeff looked down on Trish. A wave of concern rushed through him. He had never seen Trish looking as pale and weak as she did now.

Trish mumbled something unintelligible in response, as Lana deduced what was going on. "I think she's gone into labour Jeff. Where's Randy?"

"He's out in town with the guys. She's in labour…are you sure?" Jeff turned to Lana for confirmation.

"Pretty much," Lana replied, "she really doesn't look too good. Go call 911 Jeff. I'll go get something cold for her forehead. She's burning up. It's like she's got a fever or something."

As both Jeff and Lana moved to leave, Trish's hand suddenly renewed its strength and gripped Lana's in her own. Lana turned back as Trish grimaced. "Lana…please don't leave me alone…"

"No problem. I won't go anywhere." Lana replied. "Jeff, get Trish some ice!" The brunette carefully sat on the bed next to the panting Trish, who was going through another contraction. Lana position herself behind Trish, supporting her back as the Canadian groaned. "That's it Trish, just keep breathing. Deep breaths…good girl…that's it. Okay we're almost there Trish…there. Just keep breathing okay?"

Trish's blonde head bobbed as she nodded, gripping Lana's hand in her own. "It hurts so much Lana. My hips feel like they're on fire."

"You're okay Trish. Women go through this every minute of every day. You're doing fine I promise. I'm going to help you through this okay? Me and you. Total tag team action girlfriend." Lana grinned, stroking Trish's damp hair away from her face.

Trish smiled appreciatively. "Thanks Lana. I'm really glad that you're here."

Lana smiled softly, truly touched by Trish's words as Jeff reappeared. Holding a bowl of ice. Wrapping a few cubes inside a white cloth, he handed it to Lana who pressed it against Trish's forehead. "I called 911. An ambulance is on its way here. It'll be five minutes. Will you be okay for that long butterfly?"

Trish nodded mutely. "I'll be alright. Thank god you guys are here. I don't what I would have done if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"We're just glad we did," Lana replied, moving the cold cloth over Trish's perspiring features. "How's the pain?"

"It's bad," Trish admitted through clenched teeth, "but keep talking. If we talk about something, my mind won't be on the fact that my hips feel like I've been fucking a chainsaw."

"Well, how about this as a topic," Jeff offered, not sure whether he should laugh or cry at the mental image Trish had just provided him with. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he leant closer to Trish. "Lana and I came by here tonight, to let you be the first to know that she and I are together."

Trish looked blankly from Jeff to Lana and then back again. The light of realisation seemed to take spark in her eyes as she realised what Jeff meant. "Are you serious? Like, as in you two are a couple?" Lana nodded in silence, mentally preparing herself for the nuclear meltdown about to occur. Instead, Trish beamed warmly. "I'm so pleased for the two of you. That is fantastic news. You two will make such a cute couple."

"Really?" Lana couldn't hide the tone of disbelief in her own voice. "Like, you're not mad with me for dating Jeff?"

"Why would I be mad Lana?" Trish smiled, squeezing her hand this time in an affectionate way. "Two of my closest friends are together. I can't think of anything that would make me happier. Other than to get this kid out of me."

Jeff nodded. "Have you called Randy?"

"I tried," Trish whispered as she felt the tightness returning in her pelvis. "But I couldn't make the…call…oh god…" Trish whimpered as another contraction took hold. Lana held her closer, gently rubbing her back as she made cooed softly in Trish's ear. The support was invaluable to Trish, who right now couldn't imagine a worse agony.

Taking his cell phone out of his pocket, Jeff punched in Randy's number. Holding the phone to his ear, the phone continued to ring. Eventually, the call got diverted to Randy's voicemail. Waiting for the tone, Jeff spoke into the phone. "Randy man, it's Jeff. Listen, I'm with Trish at the moment. She's gone into labour. We're taking her to Saint Louis University Hospital. I'll call you again when I know which ward she's on. Later man."

Trish's face fell slightly as she realised that Jeff had been unable to reach her husband. What made it worse, were the flashing blue lights flickering through the upstairs bedroom window. Peering out between the curtains, Jeff turned back to face Trish. "The ambulance is here Trish."

"I can't give birth without Randy," Trish stammered, "He has to be there. He can't miss the birth of his baby."

"He'll be there Trish, he's going to check his phone and get over to the hospital. Jeff will keep calling him, okay?" The sound of loud knocking on the front door, followed by the call of a paramedic stopped her mid sentence. Lana resumed, smiling down at Trish as she did so. "Come on, let's get you to hospital Trish. You're going to have a baby tonight."

* * *

The glass sparkled in the dancing lights coming from the dance floor. Holding it against his lips, Randy basked in the cheers of his friends as he downed another shot of vodka. This one was labelled as 'Birthday Cake' flavoured, and indeed tasted as such. With a roar, he planted the glass down on the table as his friends cheered.

Next to him, Dave Batista grinned, slapping Randy on the back in admiration. That was Randy's fourth shot in the last hour, and still the young 'Legend Killer' was raring to go. And why shouldn't he be? He was married to one of the most beautiful women in world, who was soon to give birth to what he imagined to be their equally beautiful son or daughter. He was at an all time high in his professional career as well. No-one could deny the super-watt grin plastered across the kid's features. Tonight it seemed, Randy Orton had it all.

"I can't believe it man," Randy sighed at last, "I've got my girl, my job, my title. And in three weeks? I'm gonna have my baby. What the fuck did I do to deserve shit like this? I still can't believe Trish is going to have our baby. How head-fucked is that?"

Batista smirked as the generic blonde model next to him lit the cigarette in his hand. "Trust me man. These next few months are going to be the ones that you always going to remember. There ain't anything in the world that can compare to your girl giving birth to your baby. I know everyone says it, but it really does change your life in ways you can't imagine."

Randy leant forward from his chair. "You've got little girls Dave." Batista nodded, picking up his beer bottle where it was resting. "How do you cope man? If Trish gives me a little girl, I'm going to be so thrilled. But at the same time terrified. My little girl is going to grow up and become a woman. Aren't you worried that your babies are gonna meet guys who are just out for some ass. Guys like…"

Randy found himself cut off as Johnny Nitro cut in from next to him. "…Randy Orton?" The group of friends chuckled as Randy playfully punched Nitro in the arm.

"Well yeah. Guys like me." Randy conceded.

"Sure I am." Batista observed diplomatically. "I've told their mom that they're not allowed out of the house until their forty. And any and all men in their lives have to be pre-approved by me. No exceptions." Randy chuckled at Dave's protective streak. "Besides, isn't it a little early to be concerned about jackasses hitting on your daughter? You have to have the kid first. And then you could have a boy."

"I know." Randy nodded. "I just keep thinking about all this shit twenty-four-seven. I always knew there was a lot of responsibility in being a parent. But the closer Trish gets to actually having this kid, the more I start having near-strokes over how I'm going to cope."

"You'll do fine," Batista smirked, "and even when you fuck up, because we all know you will, Trish will be there to make everything right. Just make sure you're there for the baby Orton. I know this business is in your blood. Hell, it is for most of us. Be your career isn't going to last much past forty. That kid is going to be with you for the rest of your life."

Randy's expression grew solemn for a moment. Growing up with his father being in the wrestling business, he was exposed to the world of professional wrestling from an early age. The price for his love for the business? A family. Sure, he had been on the road with his father over the years. And more than once, Bob Orton had brought the locker room boys back to their home in St. Louis. Still, his' father's presence was a notable absence from his early days as a child growing up. Randy had often wondered that maybe his passion for the wrestling business was actually him trying to seek the approval of his father.

Deciding to leave the metaphors and psychological reasoning to Dr. Phil, Randy stood up from his seat. Shrugging his jacket off, he hung it on the back of the chair. Slinging his arm around the shoulders of Johnny Nitro, he grinned at the rest of his friends. "Come on boys. I feel like dancing." Without another word, Randy headed out onto the dance floor. Immediately, several women present in the club crowded around him. Randy honestly wasn't interested. He was happy enough to dance by himself and work out the nervous energy in his system,

"Fucking fairy." Batista chuckled. Getting up out of his seat, he moved to join Randy and their other friends on the dance floor. By chance, his leg brushed against Randy's jacket. Feeling the vibration against his leg, Batista stopped. Glancing out onto the dance floor where Randy was, he looked back at the jacket. Debating on whether or not to grab the phone, he was interrupted as the blonde model came bounding over.

"Come on baby. Let's dance." She beamed. Dave nodded, saying he'd be there in a second. Reaching his hand into the inside breast pocket of Randy's jacket, Batista's fingers wrapped around the vibrating cell phone.

Pulling it out in time, Dave say Jeff Hardy's name flash on the display before the phone stopped vibrating. Dave normally wouldn't have thought anymore it, but he happened to notice the amount of missed calls on Randy's cell phone. All seventeen of them. Gripping the silver clam-shell in his hand, Dave made his way across towards the Randy. Sliding his bulky frame between the group of bodies writhing on the dance floor was a job of work, but he eventually made it.

"Hey man," Dave shouted as loud as he could over the speakers which were blaring out music. "Check your phone."

Randy barely understood what Dave was saying, but accepted his phone from his friend. Making apologies to the women swarming around him, Orton carefully slid across the dance floor to freedom. Heading beneath the main steps leading the exit of the building, Randy stepped behind them. There was nobody back there, and a lot quieter. Noting the amount of missed calls, Randy flipped the phone open and punched in the number for his voicemail.

Holding the receiver to his ear, his jaw went slack as Jeff Hardy's desperate voice sounded in his ear with his latest message. _"Randy man, it's Jeff again. I don't know if you got my other message or not, but you need to get your ass to Saint Louis University Hospital like now. Trish is in labour and she's not doing so well. Call me when you get this. Come one man, she needs you right now. Call me back."_

No sooner had Jeff's southern tones ended than had Randy run at full speed back towards his table. Snatching his jacket from the back of the chair, he found his car keys in his pocket and was already starting to run towards the exit. The muscled frame of Dave Batista stood in his way. "Orton man. What's going on?"

"Trish is in labour Dave. I've got to get to the hospital." Randy attempted to push past Dave but was stopped by his friends' large hand on his shoulder.

"You're not thinking of driving are you?" Randy looked blankly at Dave, as if that was the stupidest question ever asked in the history of stupid questions. "Randy, do you even know how much you've had to drink tonight?" Randy stopped, shaking his head softly. "Six bottles of beer and eight shots. You are in no state to drive."

"I have to get to the hospital man!" Randy's voice sounded near frantic.

"Alright, but you're not driving man." Randy scowled at Dave, who held up his hands. "Hey, you're not going to be any good to Trish wrapped around a tree okay? Let's get up top and I'll call we'll get you a taxi okay?"

Randy nodded in agreement and the pair headed up the stairs. Reaching the outside, the Saint Louis air was nearly turned blue at the number of curses Randy Orton let loose. A huge cue of people was standing in line, all waiting to catch a taxi. Glancing down the street, Randy stared in the direction the city.

Turning back to Dave, Randy looked directly at his friend. "If you get a taxi, pick me up." Without another word, Randy turned and took off in a full speed run towards the city.

Dave threw his hands up in frustration as Randy grew smaller in the distance.

His legs pumping ridiculously fast beneath him, Randy silently prayed that he would make it in time. His head however, seemed to doubt it.

_Hang on Trish. I'm coming._


	22. I'll Be There

**_A/N_**** : Update! For your reading pleasure as always, here is the next Chapter of 'All That Glitters'. And I'm sorry to say, this is the penultimate chapter. As I suspected, I've had to split it into two. So, I've merged the last chapter and the epilogue into one. That last chapter will be posted in the next few days.**

**In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's birthin' time. From the sounds of it, most people want Randy and Trish to have a little girl. That's interesting... **

**Does everything go as planned for Trish? Does Randy make it in time? Is Megan there to deliver the baby? So many questions. All the answers are below. Please read and review guys. I really want to know you guys make of this one. As ever, I disclaim!**

* * *

The pounding of his feet against the sidewalk echoed out into the empty night. Silence hung like veil over the city centre. As night had descended, so had the populace of St. Louis retreated to their homes, in the comfort of their own beds. Indeed, who in their right mind would be out at one in the morning? Nobody it seemed.

The empty stores and office blocks rose up into the darkness, empty spires piercing the night sky above. Their windows were a thin sheet in the night, holding back that darkness that churned inside. The occasional solitary street light was all that broke the never ending city of darkness. It was this amber lighting that steered Randy Orton to where he desperately needed to be.

He'd been running harder than he ever had in his life for the best part of twenty minutes. And he still seemed miles away from the hospital. Of course, common sense told Randy he wasn't too far away from his destination. But the combination of night and alcohol seemed to have dulled his senses. Despite the adrenaline pumping into his veins, the thought of his baby arriving tonight pushing, Randy felt disorientated.

Buildings seemed distorted, as though they were not where they should be. Randy wondered if someone had moved these offices just to confuse him. It seemed such a crazy idea to Randy, considering everything else seemed to be against him this evening. Cursing himself for drinking so much, he forced himself to run even faster. Tearing blinding into the road, he narrowly missed being run down by an over-zealous teenager in his first car. Ignoring the blaring of the boy's horn, Randy continued to run.

His chest heaved up and down as a slow, dull burning sensation began to set in in his legs. He was just coming off a concussion, not to mention one of the hardest fought Championship matches of his life. And to top it all off, he was drunk. It seemed even the knowledge that he could potentially miss the birth of his first child wasn't enough to snap him out this haze.

Reaching his hand into his back pocket, Randy removed his cell-phone. Hitting speed-dial, he held the device to his ear. The ringing tone buzzed in his ear, and for the fourth time tonight, Randy found himself diverted to Jeff Hardy's voicemail.

Angry at Jeff for not picking up, and more at himself for not being where he should be, Randy cursed allowed. Legs heaving beneath him, he continued to barrel forward. He couldn't be that far from the hospital now, could he?

_I have to be there. I cannot miss the birth._ Redoubling his efforts, Randy ran straight out into the road again, determined that he would make it to his wife in time. Nothing was going to stop him being there. He could mess up just about anything else in his life, but Randy knew he would never forgive himself if he wasn't there when his wife needed him the most.

His mouth set into a line of determination, Randy continued to dash across the road, oblivious to what was around him. Too late, he heard the squeal of tires against tarmac, and the blaring horn warning him of oncoming disaster. Drowned in blinding light, Randy barely had time to shield his eyes against the invasive white before he felt the impact. It stared against his legs. The force was strong enough to knock him cleanly off his feet. With a grunt, Randy's body landed with a thud against the windscreen of the car. Powerless against the forces treating his body like a rag-doll, Randy toppled wildly off the hood, coming back to the ground with a sickening slap.

The blow to the back of his head sent stars dancing around in front of his vision, as searing pain set in all over his body.

"Trish…" he mumbled, before darkness over-took him.

* * *

Shoes clattering against the polished hospital flooring, Doctor Megan Carey grabbed the stethoscope about to fall from around her neck. Cursing softly as the coffee she had been holding split slightly because of the save, she called to a near-by orderly to clear it up. Doctor Carey wasn't one for handing out orders in such a manner. Usually, she would have stopped to clean the spillage herself and gone about her business. But not today.

She was highly caffeinated, agitated and most exhausted. Honestly having lost count of the number of coffees she had had during the day, Megan now found herself craving one of the beds in which her patients were currently resting quite comfortably. Being at work since four in the morning tended to have such an effect on a person. Her twelve hour shift had slowly extended to an eighteen hours shift. That in turn had blended to a twenty hour shift. Heading into her twenty first hour, it seemed clear to Megan was not going home any time soon. And all that was before she had been paged again.

Taking a break for the first time in around seven hours, Megan had no sooner relaxed her head back against the chair, than had her pager bleeped insistently at her. Groaning with a heady cocktail of frustration and exhaustion, she had trudged to the nearest nurses' station to find out just _who_ was demanding her attention now. Being informed that her patient Trish Orton had been brought in via ambulance was more than enough to snap Megan out of her own problems.

Snatching up her coffee, she had begun her power walk to the casualty section of the hospital, intent on getting to Trish. Turning down the last corridor, Megan headed to the room she had been informed Trish had been placed in. Her mind was alive with possibilities of what could be going on. It was clear that Trish's first pregnancy had been hard on her. Indeed, it was one of the more difficult pregnancies Megan had ever seen. Having said that, the Doctor had honestly felt as though Trish had turned a corner, and was now progressing beautifully through the last stages of her pregnancy. It seemed she had made too many assumptions too soon. If Trish had been brought in by ambulance, it certainly couldn't be good.

Mentally preparing herself, Megan wrapped her knuckles softly against the open door. Stepping through the doorway, Megan could see the private room reserved for her patient was already a hive of activity.

Trish, still fully dressed was sat on a bed, her face bathed in sweat as another brunette woman gently wiped her brow. Near by, a man with rainbow coloured hair stood holding Trish's had as she appeared to be going through a contraction. At the end of the bed, a senior nurse stood, updating Trish's notes as the contraction progressed.

"Thank you Nurse Henderson, I can take it from here." The Nurse nodded her head in Megan's direction. Handing the clipboard with Trish's note to the Doctor, she hurried out of the room. Looking up from the bed, Trish smiled weakly as she recognised Megan's face. "Morning Trish. Dare I ask what brings you in at this time of the morning?"

"Labour…"Trish panted, her chest heaving in concentrated effort. "…I'm in labour Megan."

Looking up from the notes, Megan nodded. Stepping to the edge of the bed, Megan checked the monitor which was currently connected to Trish. The web of thin plastic wires were monitoring the functions of Trish and the baby inside her, giving readouts on the monitor. Whilst meaning nothing to the casual observer, the information that the wires were providing told Megan everything she needed to know.

"You're right Trish. You've gone into labour." Taking Lana's place next to Trish, she smiled down at her Canadian patient. "You're five weeks early. Has anything happened today? Can you remember when you started to have contractions Trish?"

"About four o'clock this afternoon." Trish admitted. "I thought it was just back pain…but I think maybe that was the start of the labour. I didn't realise it at the time." Trish's cheeks flushed in embarrassment of not recognising the signs of labour.

"That's okay Trish," Megan assured, gently squeezing Trish's hand in her own. "That's a very common way for a labour to start, and most women don't realise what it is until they hit the big contractions."

"They're really painful Megan." Trish whimpered despite herself. "Is it supposed to be this bad? Is my labour going badly?" Megan fell silent, glancing at Lana and Jeff. Trish could see exactly what she didn't want to hear, the news being reflected in Lana's eyes. Yet the young Doctor didn't seem comfortable with sharing whatever it was whilst Lana and Jeff were still in the room.

"Would you guys excuse us for a moment," Megan asked as politely as she could. "I need to have a conversation with Trish."

"No," Trish cut in immediately, "anything you have to tell me, you can say in front of my friends. Please Lana, just tell me the truth. Has something gone wrong? Is my baby okay?"

Megan sighed, rubbing her temples. She honestly wasn't sure if it was because she was so tired, or if it were due to the news she was about to deliver. "Okay Trish. Honestly? Your baby isn't coping as well as I'd like with your contractions. They're very irregular, but are still coming with the force of an eighteen-wheeler. I'm concerned that the stress is going to be too much for your baby to cope with."

Trish blinked back a wave of tears as Lana continued. "Having said that, you're almost fully dilated. This baby is going to arrive in the hour or so either way. My main concern now is making sure your baby can hang in there until we get to you delivery."

"What happens if my baby it can't hold on?" Trish's chocolate brown eyes were as wide as saucers. In her head, a million and one heart-breaking scenarios where thrashing around at an alarming rate. Lana's uncomfortable expression said what she didn't want to. It was plain to Trish what her Doctor meant. If the stress got too much, Trish would loose her baby. "Oh god no. Please, no." Sobbing softly, Trish buried her face in her hands as Lana was immediately back at her side.

"Trish, trust me. I am not going to let anything happen to your baby. I promise you I will do everything I can possibly do to make sure everything goes smoothly. I want you to just sit tight for two minutes whilst I get them prepared upstairs for you to be moved to delivery. Stay calm Trish, and keep breathing." Squeezing Trish's hand, Megan headed out of the room, with Jeff right behind her.

"Doctor." Jeff called after Megan into the corridor. Turning back to face Jeff, she walked back towards him. Pushing her hands into the pockets of her white coat, she smiled gently. "What are the chances of Trish's baby being okay?"

"Honestly sir? I can't say for sure. The baby's heart rate is very unstable. The only recurring things it that the beat is getting slower rather than faster. And that's not a good sign." Jeff's eyebrows rose in an arch of shock. "It's still within acceptable limits at the moment. The baby just needs to be delivered, and everything will be okay." Megan sighed softly, pushing her hair back from her face.

Folding his arms across his chest, Jeff looked intently at Megan. "What can you do if it gets too much for the baby to handle?"

"I can get the baby out in fifty-four seconds if it comes to it." Megan nodded; highlighting the time it would take to perform a caesarean section on Trish. "But I don't want to go there unless I have to. I'm not giving up on mother or child just yet. I'm going to move Trish up to delivery and see about her giving birth naturally if we can. Do we know where Randy is? I didn't see him in Trish's room."

"He's not here," Jeff admitted, "I've called him and left messages, but he still hasn't replied." Jeff's eyebrows narrowed, wondering exactly where the father of Trish's baby was. Although he would always be there for Trish, Jeff felt that it should be Randy at his wife's side and talking to the Doctor right now, not him.

"Well he'd better get a move on," Megan said as she began heading back along the corridor, "or he's going to miss the birth. If you'll excuse me, I need to get everything prepared for Trish."

Jeff nodded in thanks as Megan turned on her heel and headed away down the corridor. Glancing at his phone, Jeff's face fell as he realised there had still been no contact from the baby's father. _Randy. Where are you?_

* * *

_Oh god. _Randy groaned inwardly, and suddenly the sound found an escape route from out of his mouth. Randy honestly wasn't sure which had woken him. The searing pain in the back of his head, or the desperate chatter of the person standing over him.

Blinking his eyes open, the world came back into focus for Randy. The night sky seemed distant and muted, the stars looking like white stains on a chalk board. A face loomed over him in the darkness. A middle-aged man looked rather relieved that Randy had opened his eyes. It confirmed that at least he was still alive. Randy on the other hand wasn't so sure. Now that he was awake, he could feel just how much pain he was in.

Grunting with the effort, Randy attempted to sit up. Biting back a yelp, Randy held a hand to his ribs as they screamed in protest at the pressure being placed on them. "Maybe you should lay down son, and let me call you an ambulance."

"I'm alright…have to get…to the…hospital…" Randy panted. Pushing himself to his knees, he gritted his teeth as he felt stabbing pains all through his torso. Resting his weight on his hands, Randy remained that position, just breathing through the pain.

"I'm sorry son. I didn't see you. I tried to brake, but it was too late and…" The driver raked a hand back through his thinning white hair. Glancing around nervously, he wondered if anyone else had seen the accident and what kind of law suit he was going to be faced with.

Forcing the air out between his teeth, Randy managed to get back to his feet. His head throbbed constantly, whilst the pain in his body was crippling. He could feel warm liquid oozing down the side of his head, and he guessed he was bleeding. Holding his arm around his body, he slowly started to limp towards the sidewalk. "Son, seriously. You should stay here and let me get you an ambulance. The hospital is really just up the road…"

Ignoring the man, Randy glanced upwards. For the first time since he had heard Trish had gone into labour, he smiled. It was true, the hospital was near by. He could see the large stone building rising out from the ground in the distance. Moving with a pronounced limp, Randy slowly began staggering towards the hospital. Each movement sent waves of molten pain shooting up his leg. Each breath felt like a vice crushing his rib cage. And Randy would be lying if he could say he was able to see or think straight. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter how much he was hurt. Trish needed him, and he would get there no matter what.

Moving painfully slowly along the sidewalk, it seemed an eternity before Randy arrived at the hospital. As the man's voice faded into the distance, so did the Hospital get closer. Staggering inside the entrance, Randy used the doorframe for support as he leaned himself against it. Realising he was in the casualty entrance, his eyes scanned across the room. People of different kinds filled the seats. Some were obviously injured, with people bleeding and nursing injured limbs. Others were not so obvious, but that didn't matter. Randy wasn't here for anyone other than his wife.

Shuffling forward, Randy moved to the front of the queue despite the protests and rested his body against the desk. Behind it, sat a fierce looking red-headed woman. She looked to be in her fifties, and age had not treated her kindly. Her cheeks hung down against her jaw line, as the lines of age were forever cut around her eyes and mouth. Her mouth was thin and hard, matching the cold expression from her eyes. Looking over the glasses resting on the edge of her beak-like nose, she viewed Randy with obvious disdain.

"I'm sorry sir." She recited in a nasal voice as she appraised his intrusion. "But you will have to wait your turn to be seen by a Doctor. There is a queue as I'm sure you can see."

Shaking his head, Randy spoke. She obviously didn't realise why he was here, and he had explain. It was going to be a job of work however, as his words were slurred and almost incoherent. Was that from the head injury or the alcohol? _Probably both_, Randy mused. "I'm not here for the Doctor. Where would I go if I was having a baby?"

"The Church dear." Her voice seemed positively dripping in sarcasm, which was completely lost on the dazed Randy Orton.

"The Church?" He repeated as though he had learning difficulties.

"Yes dear. It would be a miracle if _you_ were having a baby. You would need to go to a Church." Snorting briefly at her own inappropriate sense of humour, the stony face woman returned shuffling through paper on her desk, acting as though Randy wasn't there.

"No. You don't understand." Randy clarified, resting his hands further over the desk. "I need to get to where you have babies. I need to be up there, right now."

Sighing, the woman adjusted the glasses on the end of her nose. She'd been in the profession long enough to recognise a drunkard well enough. At least she thought so. "Have you been drinking sir?"

"What?" Randy shook his head in disbelief. What did that have to do with Trish giving birth? Was this woman not listening to what he was telling her?

"Have you been drinking sir?" She repeated it again, this time with a disappointed tone to her voice. "You absolutely reek of alcohol, and appear to be very much inebriated." Her medical assessment sent Randy's blood pumping around his veins. He wasn't exactly known for his patience anyway, but this woman was pushing all the wrong buttons.

"Listen lady," Randy snapped, slamming his hands down on the desk. "I just got hit by a damn car, and I need to get to where they deliver babies. Will you please just tell me where I need to go?"

"You were hit by a car?" Her eyebrow rose as she studied Randy. Nodding mutely, the Nurse grabbed a form from her pile and slid it across the desk to Randy. "Fill that form out, and join the back of the queue, and wait your turn to see the Doctor."

"Are you retarded in some way?" Randy exploded, throwing the form back at the shocked Nurse. "I told you I don't want to see the damn Doctor." With the last word, Randy pounded his fists against the desk. Unbeknownst to him, from behind two orderlies had started approaching the desk because of the commotion. "My wife has gone into labour, and I need to find out which floor she is on. Now for the love of god, will you please just tell me where I need to go?"

The woman continued to study Randy, her mouth twitching at the impertinence she felt Randy was displaying. "Join the back of the queue sir and I will happily address your query once those who were here before you have been attended to. Now, if you please."

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Randy opened his mouth to scream at the Nurse, when he felt a hand grip him at the elbow. Turning around to see who it was, Randy was faced with an overweight orderly. "Sir, can you please calm down. This is a hospital and…" The man stopped mid-sentence as his eyes widened in sheer recognition. "Hey, you're Randy Orton! The WWE Champion. Oh man, I am a huge fan dude!"

"Thank you," Randy replied curtly, "my wife has gone into labour. I need to get to her. Can you tell me where I need to go?"

The Orderly seemed oblivious as he continued to chortle at his sighting. "Oh man, my cousin is not going to believe this! That I met you here at work. He is going to be so jealous man! Hey, do you think you could give me your autograph." Snatching up a pad from behind the desk, he handed it to Randy along with a pen he produced from his back pocket. "Make it out to Stevie, _my biggest fan_."

Mouth open in awe of the man's stupidity, Randy felt the burning desire to punch every single hospital employee in the vicinity clear the drunken haze that fogged his mind. It was funny what anger could do for a person. His fist tensing at his side, Randy raised his arm ready to sock the man the jaw, when the intercom clicked on just in the nick of time.

"_Doctor Carey to Nurse Lewis. Please report to the Delivery Ward on floor four. Nurse Lewis, please report to flour four for delivery." _

Recognising Megan's voice, not to mention her name, Randy turned on his heel. Despite the pain gripping his body, he ran as fast as he could to the stairs. The Nurse and Orderly called after him, neither making any attempt to follow.

* * *

"Okay Trish, let's get you moving." Megan appeared through the door of Trish's room, smiling warmly. She had changed into surgical clothes, a loose fitting pale blue suit. Trish herself had changed at the request of the Nurse, now only wearing a hospital gown. On either side, Lana and Jeff held her hands.

Another nurse came through the door, followed by two male orderlies. Raising the bars on either side of Trish's bed, they began pushing it towards the door. Trish looked the picture of terror, her brown eyes wide and flooded with tears. Reaching for Lana, the brunette woman leaned closer. Trish sniffed softly as she addressed her friend. "Lana, I need you promise me something."

"Anything." Lana replied.

"If something happens to me, I want you to make sure Randy and our baby are okay. I need them to know how much I love them okay. Will you do that for me?" Trish couldn't help but let the tears slide down her cheeks.

Lana brushed the glistening pearls away from her friend's cheeks just as quickly. "You're going to be fine Trish, I promise. You can tell Randy yourself." Lana smiled, leaning closer to plant a kiss on Trish's forehead.

Trish Orton and her entourage were ushered down the corridor, heading to the nearest lift. Stopping outside, they pushed the call button as Trish continued to sob in silence. Never in her life had she felt so frightened. Things weren't going as they should, and Trish knew it. Something was going to go wrong, and she couldn't bare the thought of losing her baby. She just had too much love for the unborn child to let anything happen to it.

More than anything else, Trish desperately wished Randy was here. She felt lost and totally broken, and needed his strength. But for whatever reason, he wasn't here. Trish wasn't sure which hurt her the most. The fact that she was going to have go through this alone, or that Randy was going to miss the birth of his first child. And that was assuming everything went as it should. Attracting Megan's attention, the Doctor leaned closer to Trish as she whispered gently in her ear.

"Megan, if something goes wrong, make the baby your priority, okay?" Megan stiffened slightly, but Trish continued. "Please Megan, if it comes down to a choice, you have to make sure my baby makes it. That life is more important that anything else. Do you understand?"

Megan's mouth moved to speak. It wasn't even a decision to her. She knew she would do everything she possibly could to make sure that both mother and baby made it through. The words were caught in her throat however, as the doors to the lift opened with an audible 'ping'.

Sliding open, the doors parted. Looking into the lift, Trish felt as though her heart was about to stop. Resting against the back of the lift, his cheek grazed and temple darkened with blood, was a dishevelled Randy Orton. His eyes were downcast as he appeared to be trying to regain his breath. His attention was drawn however, as Trish nearly screamed his name. Glancing up, his dirtied face broke into a relieved grin. Stepping aside to allow the bed, he was immediately at Trish side, who pulled him into a tight hug. His lips planted a line of kisses over her mouth and down over his neck, as Trish whispered how happy she was that he was here.

"Fashionably late Orton?" Lana smirked as she and Jeff stepped back from the doors, allowing them to close. They had done their bit to make sure Trish was okay. Now she was in Randy's more than capable hands. "We'll catch the next one." Lana smirked. Smiling at his friends, Randy chuckled as the doors slid shut.

Trish didn't even make it to right floor however as she started panting uncontrollably, moaning of her unbridled agony. Megan bellowed orders at her Nurses as they rushed down the corridor. Trish had reached the final stage of labour, and the baby was coming whether the ward was ready or not.

Randy was forced to scrub himself clean and dress much like Megan was dressed before he was allowed in the room where Trish was giving birth. The antiseptic soap was still stinging the graze on his temple as he entered the room. Megan was at the end of the bed, Trish's legs were bent at the knees and parted. All around her Nurses flittered around, doing what, Randy could only guess. Trish immediately gripped his hand as he approached, her face flushed.

"Okay Trish, push for me sweetie. That's it. A big push." Megan encouraged Trish as his wife strained. Her face flushed an intense red with the exerted effort, her voice a strangled cry of pain and effort. It was all Randy could do not to scream along with his wife, as her hand crushed his own.

The birth continued in the same process, with Megan encouraging Trish to push as hard as she could and Trish did as she was told, squeezing Randy's hand tighter every time. It seemed to go on forever, and Randy honestly couldn't see any kind of change. Trish was still pushing, but there was no sign of their baby. A feeling of dread flamed to life in the pit of his stomach. Megan turned to a nearby Nurse, and whispered something which she obviously didn't want the parents to hear. The action did nothing to settle his nerves.

Randy distinctly caught the words _'baby's heart rate has dropped'_ from the whispered conversation, just as Trish softly called his name. Immediately moving to her side, he leaned his head closer to her as she looked up at him.

Her eyes were hazy and unfocused. It was clearly more than exhaustion. She seemed unable to stay awake, alarming Randy more than he had ever felt in his life. It was though he was watching his wife fade away right in front of him. Gently cupping her head in his hands, his crystal blue eyes pleaded with her chocolate brown orbs to stay open. " Look at me Trish. C'mon baby, stay with me here. You're doing great. Just keep going. You can get through this, I know you can."

"I can't. I'm sorry." Trish's voice was barely a whisper, and Randy strained to hear her. Leaning his head even closer, her mouth barely moved as she spoke. "I love you."

Her head suddenly went limp in Randy's hands, leaning to the side as her eyes closed. Randy's own eyes began to sting with tears as he gently tried to rouse his wife. "Trish. Trish, wake up. Come baby girl. Please. Say something. Trish?" Turning to face Megan, Randy's eyes bubbled with tears as his wife failed to response. "Megan!"

"Doctor," A nameless Nurse from the side addressed Megan. "We're losing her."

Glancing up, the Doctor looked up to see Trish had slipped into unconsciousness. "Randy, out!" She ordered, rushing to Trish's side. "C-section people. Nurse Henderson, I want an update on Trish. Nurse Lewis, let's get this baby out now!" Brushing past, Megan turned to the distraught Randy. Tact was out of the window. All of Megan's medical training told her she was about to loosing both mother and baby. "Move it! Randy, you need to leave." Trish's desperate plea from earlier to save her baby, rung like a death knell in Megan's mind as she moved.

"I'm not leaving my wife." Randy protested. There was no way in hell that he was going to leave Trish where she was. She was fading before his very eyes, and he refused to be anywhere else until he knew she was going to be okay. He could not lose his wife. It was not a possibility to Randy. And he would not leave her side, no matter what. They would have to drag him out kicking and screaming first before he would leave.

It seemed the Hospital staff were well aware of this.

"Doctor!" Alarm resonated through the Nurses' voice as she called to Megan. "She's flat-lining!"

Randy didn't have to be a Doctor to know what that meant. "Trish!" Several nurses and orderlies appeared from nowhere, all descending on him at once as Megan immediately rushed back to Trish's side. They continued to grapple Randy, and were forced to drag him to the doorway, as his wife slipped away before his eyes.

"Let me go! I said…get the hell off me! Trish! Trish!" Despite his opposition, Randy was dragged out of the room, the doors being closed in front of him as he begged his wife to wake up. She hadn't regained consciousness, and Randy was all too aware of the colour draining from her peaceful features.

Pulled into a side room, Randy felt as though he were under guard as the Hospital staff barred the doorway. Sinking to his knees, Randy broke down, emotionally and physically. The pain from the accident earlier did not compare to the feeling of his heart disintegrating inside his chest. He was vaguely aware of Lana and Jeff entering the room, kneeling next to him. Their voice's sounded distant in his own ears, as his heart pounded uncontrollably in his head.

Tears flooded from his blue eyes and down his cheeks with all the force of a river. The magnitude of what had has just happened set in for Randy. His head fell into his hands, as his anguished sobs filled the room. Desperately he tried to deny what he had just seen, to think that maybe he had gotten it wrong. But his mind screamed at the truth at him, sending an icy chill creeping down over his limbs and into his heart.

He had just witnessed his worst nightmare. Randy Orton had just seen the love of his life die. She slipped away from him whilst in his arms.

And there was nothing he could do to get her back.

* * *

**_A/N_**** Jhanelle, back away from the pitchfork! One more chapter to go boys and girls!**


	23. A New Day Has Come

**A/N****: Well boys and girls. Here it is. I won't keep you in suspense any longer. The very final chapter of 'All That Glitters'. Considering the threats of violence etc from the last chapter, I'm guessing I touched a nerve? I'm twisted. We all know this. Read and find out what happens next ;)**

**I honestly cannot believe we're here. When I first started posting this story back in October, I never imagined that we'd get here. I am truly thankful to each and every single person who reads and/or reviews what I write.**

**This story is special to me, and when I first joined FF, this Randy and Trish relationship was what I started with. As well being sentimental, when I look back at my writing of 'Follow Me Home', and then look at 'All That Glitters', I can see how far I've come. I hope you guys have enjoyed these stories as much as I have enjoyed writing them. **

**The response I have had to this story has just been amazing. You guys have gotten so passionate about these characters, I am truly humbled. From just reading, to reviews, to PMs and e-mails, I have had so much feedback from everyone and I am really thankful. **

**I would like to say thank you to the following people. You read, you review, you have my story as a favourite or on alert. You guys are just awesome -**

_**DaGirl, Devil on the run, Electra54, Lil'MissCena, Recco101, Southernbelle99, Tragically Twisted, TrishOrton, coldh0pe, fallenforHIM, keddie6, kimberlin, rory21, thealphamale, veracruzortongal, xAttitudex, xxcharmedangel109xx, FulloSpunk, Nocturnal Rose, Princess Mel, cenasgrl, con's girl, general01lee, shannygoat**_, **_TheRealKellyAnne, grleviathan, amis-smiaxo, VASHORTYGIRL, LaLa2004, Matty1_ (if I've thanked you twice, feel lucky lol! If I've missed you, I'm sorry!)**

**Special mention to my girls _- Kim, Nicole & Jhanelle. _You three, without a doubt, are the most loyal readers I have. Whenever I open my inbox, you three have reviewed, either telling me what a dolt I am for doing something, threatening me with something or other for what I've done etc. It doesn't matter what I post and where, you guys are with me all the way. Thank you guys. This chapter is for you.**

**Thank you to _Shanny _and_ Chynna. _You two are just two of the greatest people. Nuff said.**

**And to those who read without having me down as something. You guys number in the hundreds, and I would love to give you a shout out, but I can't because I don't know who you are! But love and light to each of you. Thank you for sharing this story with me**

**So, for the very last time with this story, here is your newest (and last) chapter for your reading enjoyment. I disclaim! And if you're reading', get to reviewin'. Love and Light.**

* * *

"Randy?" 

Lana's voice echoed softly in the darkened relatives' room. Perched on the edge of a green polyester seat, her hands clasped desperately at her knees as she watched him.

On the opposite side of the room Randy Orton was sat. He was slumped back into his chair, as though his body were made from rubber. Solid but unstable. His hands rested weakly at his sides, his head on a slight tilt. His shirt was dirtied and torn, the sleeve of the right arm ripped from cuff to the elbow. On his left shoulder, a few dots of blood stained the material. They had come from the wound on the side of his head, which was now an angry red smudge on his temple. A few nicks and grazes marred his otherwise flawless face. Down his cheeks were dried rivers of tears that he had shed. Now, they were dark marks of his sorrow. Even his usually expressive mouth hung slightly open, the hint of his pink tongue barely visible behind his teeth.

Lana found it difficult to look into his eyes. They were always seen as his best feature. Bright, crystal blue rounds sparkling with emotion and life. They captivating and absorbing, making it all too easy for anyone fall into their depths and never want to come back out. But it seemed they would shine no more.

The crystal blue seemed to have faded to grey in darkness. The colour was watery, as though the very vitality had been sucked out of him. The stared lazily into space across the room, focusing on nothing. If Lana didn't know better, she would think her friend had slipped into some kind of catatonic state. There seemed to be nothing left of the Randy that she had known for most of her life. Sat before her was a shell of Randy, and empty vessel. A mockery of the man he used to be.

Standing up from her seat, she cautiously approached her friend. Taking several small steps across the room, Lana saw that Randy didn't react. He just continued to sit there. She found herself wondering if he had even blinked recently.

Softly sitting down beside him, she gently took his hand in her own. The knuckles were bruised, with the heel of his palm grazed against the road from his earlier accident. Making gentle circular motions on the back of his hand, Lana tried to wake him from his silence. "Talk to me Randy. Say something…anything."

Feeling defeated, it became clear Randy was not going to move. Starting to feel as though she had lost her friend, Randy suddenly moved. His head gently turned to face Lana. His eyes held the same vacant expression as he looked at Lana. She felt like he could see her, but couldn't recognise her. "I don't understand."

His soft voice sent chills down her spine. Lana wanted nothing more than to burst into tears herself. If what Randy had sobbed earlier was true, then Trish was gone. Not allowing herself to touch her own grief that rested beneath the surface, Lana continued to be as strong as she could. For Randy, if nothing else. "I'm sorry Randy. I am so sorry."

"How can this have happened?" Randy whispered gently into the room, as though not acknowledging what Lana had said at all. "How can she have gone?"

"You don't know that Randy. Maybe she'll be okay. Maybe…" Lana desperate attempts to reassure the heartbroken Randy were cut off.

"I held her in my arms…" Randy's face seemed to contort into a mask of disbelief and incredulity all at once. "…and she just left me. I saw her slip away…and the Nurse said…"

His voice faltered, as a fresh flood of tears began pooling in his eyes. Reliving the moment was too much for him. He was teetering on the edge of a total breakdown, and could feel no way stop himself from tumbling over the edge. It was like someone was pulling a cliff from beneath him, and he was falling head first into an endless pit of darkness. There would be no way out for him.

For the first time since he had entered the room, Randy's eyes suddenly focused. It was as though he could register the fact Lana was sat before him. He became suddenly agitated as a sea of emotions began to churn inside him. "What am I going to do without her Lana? How am I supposed to go on?" His eyes pleaded with her Lana for an answer. "What am I going to do?"

She knew he was relying on her for some kind of comfort. But Lana didn't have the words. If the worst had happened, what could she possibly say to make anything right? She couldn't fathom a life without Trish herself. How could she hope to help her grieving husband?

Randy's face fell even further, a look of sheer terror twisting his tired features. "…what am I going to tell her mother?" The idea petrified Randy to the core. How could tell Trish's mother that she was gone? How could you tell a mother that her daughter was gone, and would never come back?

"Don't worry about that Randy," Lana soothed. "We can figure that out later. Right now we just need to -…"

"I have to call her mother." Randy stood up, immediately cutting Lana off mid-sentence. His eyes fell across the door on the opposite side of the room. In a zombie like state, Randy started to stagger forward.

Lana immediately stood in front of him. Despite the fact his eyes stayed fixed on the door ahead, Lana rested her hands on his chest, as she gently pushed him back. "Randy you need to sit down. I'll take care of everything, I promise. Just sit down, okay?"

Defeated, Randy allowed himself to be seated back where he was. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." He whispered to no-one particular. "We were supposed to be together forever. This was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives." A tear rolled down Randy's cheeks as he stared down at his own hands. "I can't do this without her. I can't live…I can't breathe…I can't…"

Tears overcame Randy, as he buried his head into his hands, sobbing gently. Lana felt her own tears roll down her cheeks, but she made no effort to brush them away. Leaning closer to Randy, she wrapped her arms around him. Holding him as close to her as she could, she let him cry. His body shuddered with sobs, as they seemed to escalate even further.

Sniffing gently, Lana turned her head at the sound of an opening door. A teary Jeff Hardy stepped through, holding a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Gently closing the door behind him, he walked into the room. Kissing the back of Randy's head gently, Lana stood up and crossed the room to meet Jeff.

The couple embraced gently, and Jeff carefully brushed his thumb over Lana's cheeks to wipe away the tears. "How is he?" Jeff's southern twang was lilting with unspoken grief as he looked across the room to the broken Randy.

"I think he's in shock." Lana confided. "I'm really scared for him Jeff. I don't think he's going to be able to cope if…if…" Jeff immediately understood what Lana couldn't bring herself to say. Hugging her gently, he pressed his lips to her temple. Grateful for the support, Lana allowed her head to find Jeff's shoulder and rest there for a moment as she composed herself. "What did the Nurses say?"

Jeff sighed. Leading Lana across the room towards Randy, he lowered himself into a seat. "They wouldn't tell me anything. Just said to wait in here until someone came in for us."

Lana nodded mutely. Taking the tea from Jeff, she carefully handed it to Randy. He cradled the cup in his hands, without doing anything else. Turning back to Jeff, Lana shook her head. "It's been almost an hour Jeff. What could possibly take that long?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Jeff had no answer. It didn't matter however, as a soft knock at the door preceded the entrance of Doctor Megan Carey. Her face was ash white, and utterly exhausted. Wringing her hands in front of her, she scanned the room until she found Randy sat in the corner.

"Randy." His head looked upwards, obviously having difficulty focusing on anything through his tears. "Could you step outside with me please?"

Randy seemed about ready to sob again. Placing the cup down on the table, he tried to get to his feet. They gave way beneath him, and he sank to his knees. Immediately, Jeff and Lana were on either side of him, gently helping him to stand. Nodding at the help, Randy slowly ventured forward under his own power. Holding the door open, Megan followed Randy out into the hallway.

The stopped in front of the delivery room, the door of which Megan pushed open. Randy meekly followed inside. Leaning against the wall, Megan softly folded her arms across her chest. Seemingly taking her time, she finally looked up at Randy.

"I don't think I need to tell you that things didn't go as I would have liked, Randy." Randy nodded briefly in silence. His body started to tremble softly. In an effort to control it, he in turn wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself as protection against what was to come. "There were some serious complications. The stress of the birth was too much for the baby to cope with, and it's heart rate was dropping to quickly for us to continue with a natural birth." Randy's bottom lips started to tremble. He tried desperately to prepare himself for what was to come next.

It was a futile effort however. He simply had nothing left. Any emotional strength he may have had, had been shattered as easily as glass during the birth. "As you know, I had no choice to call for an emergency caesarean section. It was touch and go Randy, really it was."

Tears started to fall from Randy's eyes, which he slapped away as quickly as he could. "My baby?" It was barely above a whisper, and not really a question. What Randy was desperate to was if his baby was okay. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. If he did, and the answer was negative, Randy knew he would simply curl up and die on the floor. And there was no way he would assume the worst. Those two words seemed to hang in the air between Randy and Megan for an eternity, before the Doctor spoke.

"Why don't you take a look for yourself?" Megan smile gently. Taking Randy by the hand, she led him through a set of double doors into another room. A curtain separated the room in half.

Where Randy and Megan entered, Randy could make out a glass box. Obviously an incubator of sorts, he didn't dare move any further. Placing a hand on the small of his back, Megan walked Randy gently forward. He held off looking until the last possibly second. Glancing down into the space, Randy felt his heart skip several beats. His breath hissed out of his mouth as he registered what was before him.

Resting in a pool of pink blankets rested a little baby. Obviously slumbering, the tiny limbs would fidget every once in a while, causing the little features to contract. Randy turned to Megan, his eyes wide with shock and admiration. "Randy, say hello to your daughter." Randy's mouth opened and closed several times, as he looked from Megan to the baby and back again. Blinking, it was almost as though he couldn't believe what was before him. "Would you like to hold her?"

"Can I?" Randy ventured in disbelief.

Megan smiled. Leaning over, she carefully scooped the baby up inside the blanket. Holding the baby to close, she carefully handed her over to the waiting Randy. The second Megan placed his daughter into his arms, Randy felt his heart burst. Tears he didn't know he hadn began to run down his cheeks. The tiny life in his arms was the most precious thing he had ever seen in his life. This was _his_ daughter. Randy looked back at Megan, smiling despite his tears. "She's beautiful."

"She's perfect Randy." Megan smiled, gently caressing the baby's head. "A healthy seven pounds and four ounces. Congratulations."

Megan took a step back for a moment to give Randy a few moments. Sniffing back his tears, he smiled down at the stirring baby in his arms. Her eyes opened slowly. They were full, and an intense shade of brown. She definitely had her mothers' eyes.

Smiling at the thought, Randy suddenly felt the icy chill of loss sweep through him. Trish would never know. She would never get to see how much her daughter looked like her, how they had the same eyes. She would never get to hold her baby in her arms, or be able to love her for the rest of her life.

In an intense crash of feeling, Randy felt the most devastating loneliness and feeling of completion at the same time. How it was possible, Randy didn't know. Gently laying his daughter back down, Randy took a step back to simply look at her. Tilting his head, he moved forward. Bending down over the cot, his softly brushed his lips against her forehead. She was the most precious thing he had ever known, and Randy vowed he make sure she grew up to know that.

Megan stepped forward again, resting her hand on Randy's shoulder. Despite himself, Randy couldn't help but feel a loss of Trish not being here to see this moment. "Trish." His voice wasn't even a whisper, but Megan had managed to catch the spoken word.

"She's going to fall in love with her the minute she lays eyes on her." Megan beamed.

Randy turned to face her fully. He clearly didn't understand. "What?"

Remaining oblivious, Megan smiled warmly. "Trish is going to fall head over heels with your daughter Randy."

"You…you mean…?" Randy stopped speaking, pressing his hand against his chest in fear of his heart beating right out of his chest.

A light of recognition sparked in Megan's eyes. She realised the last thing Randy had seen was Trish flat-lining before his eyes. He didn't know what else had happened. "She's alright Randy. Trish is alright. She's sleeping. Come on."

Taking his hand, Megan walked the dazed Randy across the room. Gripping the edge of the curtain that separated the room, she pulled in back. Randy couldn't help but whimper. Resting on the bed was Trish. Her eyes were closed softly, as her chest rose and fell gently beneath the covers. Her skin was a healthy pink, her golden hair spread out all around her head. She looked peaceful as she slept, the constant bleep of her heart monitor the only sound breaking the easy silence.

"I thought," Randy sobbed, "the Nurse said she…"

"That she flat-lined?" Megan finished the sentence for Randy. "She did. Twice actually. We lost her two times during the birth. But I brought her back Randy. You know better than anyone how strong your wife is. She's going to be fine." Randy nodded mutely through a flood of tears. "She lost a lot of blood during the birth. She's very fragile at the moment so she's going to have stay here for a few days until she gets her strength back. But she's sleeping peacefully. Mother and baby are going to be absolutely fine."

Megan all at once found herself engulfed in Randy's strong arms. Squeezing her into a tight embrace, he repeatedly thanked Megan. Over and over again as he held her close. She would never know just how truly thankful Randy was for what Megan had done for his family today. "I'll leave you three alone." Megan smiled. "I'll go update your friends."

After Randy allowed her to leave, Megan quietly left the room. Standing unmoving, Randy was content to just watch his wife sleep. Her beautiful features were completely at peace. There was no sign of stress of worry. Just an inner peace that Randy had never seen before. Cautiously, he crept closer to the bed. No sooner had he reached the edge, did Randy feel his sorrow pouring from his eyes. Crying unashamedly, Randy leant across the bed, desperate to be near to his wife.

Resting his head on her should, he continued to sob softly. His grief that was absolute almost minutes ago was slowly melting away to the greatest sense of joyous relief. Softly stroking her hair, Randy gently brushed his lips against Trish's. She stirred softly, but remained asleep. Smiling, Randy whispered softly in her ear. "I love you too."

By the time Megan had returned, it seemed the day's events had finally caught up to the new father. Peering in through window to the room, she smiled gently. Randy got onto the bed along side Trish. Although it looked as though he was perched precariously, his body had curved to be against Trish's. What touched Megan more than anything else was Trish. Whether unconsciously or not, her hand had slipped across her body to rest on Randy's shoulder. Sniffing back a tear, Megan sighed. _They were going to be okay. _

* * *

The car gently eased into the driveway of the St. Louis home. Coming to a complete stop, the car ceased to move. Sitting in silence for a moment, life suddenly came to the vehicle as the front door opened. Out stepped Jeff Hardy. His newly-dyed blue locks had been pulled back into a pony-tail, freeing his handsome features of the weight of his hair. One the other side of the car, the passenger door opened. Lana emerged. Her brunette hair tumbled in loose curls over her shoulders and back as she smiled. 

Opening the door to the backseat, the retrieved a huge stuffed teddy-bear. A bright pink bow had been wrapped around its neck giving it a subtle feminine touch. Jeff too looked on the backseat, bringing out a long handled basket filled with assorted toys and clothes made specifically for a baby girl.

Taking each others' hand, they headed up the path towards the large three-storey house. It seemed a life time ago that they had come here one evening to inform their mutual friend that they had become a couple. It reality, in the four weeks that had passed since that fateful night, things were somehow beginning to return to normal.

After spending a fortnight in hospital, Trish Orton had finally been allowed to return home with her newborn daughter. Word had spread through their friends and family of what exactly had happened during the birth. Randy and Trish had been inundated with well wishes and kind thoughts. The strangest seemed to come from the Chairman of the Board himself, Vince McMahon. He insisted that Randy take off as much time as he felt he needed to be with his daughter. As Vince had put it, Randy was to tell the company when exactly he felt he was ready to return to work. He had even gone so far as to assure Randy that the Championship belt would still be waiting for him when he returned.

Thankful for small mercies, Randy had seized the opportunity to stay at home with his wife and newborn daughter. Indeed, after being confronted with the idea losing his wife, Randy honestly couldn't imagine going back to work. Knowing what it felt like to be without her, he didn't know if he could face resuming his wrestling schedule and being away from his wife. Not to mention his newborn baby. But Trish had assured him that he could cross that bridge when he came to it.

It seemed fitting now, that a month after the baby's birth, Randy and Trish were ready to introduce their daughter to their friends and family. If nothing else, Trish had joked, all the girls from the locker room had been amazingly patient with her. It would be simply cruel to keep them from meeting the newest edition to the Orton family any longer.

Knocking the front door, Jeff was confronted with chuckling face of John Cena. Pulling Hardy into a man hug, he and Lana were ushered into the front room, where everyone had gathered. It was almost a crush of people, every single seat being filled beyond capacity. There were wrestlers past and present from the WWE, along with referees and trainers and other friends the couple had. Not to mention the McMahon's, who were completely represented by all four members of the family along with their respective partners.

Jeff smiled as he saw JR sat in between Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson and Hunter, the three men deep in conversation about the births of their own daughters. Across from them, the 'divas' had poured together. Lana had joined them, and they were busily drinking champagne and squealing with delight at the idea of meeting Trish and Randy's baby.

Smirking, Jeff turned to look up the stairs. Smiling, he waved up to Randy and Trish who were making their way down. Wrapped in a white blanket, their daughter was geld comfortably against Trish's chest, as Randy held a protective arm around his wife.

Randy seemed to be positively glowing with pride. Dressed in jeans and a white tee-shirt, nothing could compare to the smiled etched on his face as they made their way down the stairs.

And Trish didn't disappoint by any stretch of the imagination either. Dressed in a simple white shirt and a black knee length skirt, her skin glowed. Her features were soft and relaxed, haloed by the mane of blonde hair that spilled around her shoulders. Despite the fact that she had lost almost all of her baby-weight, her figure seemed better than it had been before. Even though she had curves before, Trish seemed a little more rounded, with perhaps a fuller figure. The fact hadn't gone unnoticed by Randy who was practically counting down the days until he could make love to his wife again.

Those new curves she had seemed to leave him constantly on the verge of arousal. And for a man that was perpetually horny? It meant Trish lived in a state of slight panic as to exactly what he would do to her when he had the chance.

They both looked stunning, and were clearly proud parents. Jeff smiled, and turned to the full room that seemed oblivious to the presence of the parents. Clearing his throat, Jeff chuckled. "Uh, guys? They're here."

Silence descended on the room like a wave of a stormy sea. Every single set of eyes looked to the entrance to the room, where Randy stood alongside his wife. Cradling the baby close to her, Trish carefully pushed down the blanket a little to reveal the baby's small features.

"Hey everyone," Randy spoke first, resting his arm over Trish's shoulders. "Thank you for coming, and waiting for us. There's somebody here that we'd like to introduce you to again." The couple stepped forward, and Trish shifted the baby in her arms so everyone could see her face. "Guys, this is our daughter. Riley Kendall Orton. Baby girl? Meet everyone."

Randy grinned as he recited her name. It had been Trish's decision that they went with Randy's first name choice of Riley. They had both remarkably agreed on the name Kendall, and so the second generation of 'RKO' had been officially named.

The group broke into unbridled applause as everyone became desperate to get closer to their baby. The divas were at the head of the charge. Screaming and crying, Melina, Lisa and Candice all hugged Trish at once. Smiling, Trish carefully placed Riley in Candice's arms as the women began to fawn over her.

The male superstars were no better, with Randy receiving hugs from John Cena, Dave Batista and Adam Copeland in quick succession. Leaning closer to his wife, Randy pulled Trish closer to him. Smiling up at him, Trish moved onto her toes to reach Randy's lips. It was a gentle kiss, expressing just how much love they had one another. Relaxing into Randy's arms, Trish smiled as she watched Stephanie McMahon coo at her daughter. "I love you so much Trish." Randy whispered gently into her hair, rubbing her back with his arms. "When I thought I lost you…"

Trish turned to face Randy, kissing his lips before he could finish the sentence. They had had many conversations about what happened that night, and Trish could see how truly devastated her husband had been. In truth, it had shaken Trish up a lot to know that she had stopped breathing during the birth. But the couple had made it through as she had known they would. "I love you too Randy." She smiled gently, kissing his bottom lip between her own lips. "And I promise I will never leave you ever again."

Randy smiled brightly as he hugged Trish closer to him. "Besides," Trish winked up at her husband. "I'm far too stubborn. You won't get rid of me that easily. You're stuck with me buster."

Trish smiled at her humour, but Randy looked serious for a moment. "You make it sound like a bad thing. I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you Patricia Anne Orton. Thank you for giving me a daughter who is as beautiful as my perfect wife."

Taken aback by Randy's tenderness, Trish buried her head against his chest, hiding the tears that were threatening to spill. Pulling her back, she smiled serenely at her husband. "I love you Randy. You know you only ever have to ask and I will do anything for you." A devilish twinkle appeared in Trish's eyes. "Only don't ask for anything for Christmas. You've totally maxed out this year."

Randy chuckled gently, kissing the tip of Trish's nose. "You still my girl?"

"Always." Trish smiled.

"And the mother of my child." Randy sighed in awe as he watched Dave Batista display a surprising amount of gentleness as he held the baby. "So. What happens now?"

Trish smiled as she accepted her daughter back from Jeff Hardy. Smiling at Riley, Trish sighed. "We'll just see how it goes baby."

Struck by the nostalgia of what they had said, Trish smiled. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had it all. She and Randy had come a long way since they had first gotten together all that time ago.

Randy had overcome his own fear of commitment to be with Trish, and she had managed to beat back her broken heart and self doubt to give everything to Randy. Their relationship, and subsequently their marriage, hadn't exactly been plain sailing. They had weathered obstacles from offers of infidelity to work pressures.

And after all, they were still together. Knowing them as she did, Trish knew this wasn't going to the least they going to face. After all, if the past three years were anything go by, they were just getting started. Their marriage wasn't perfect, but Trish figured that would take the excitement out of life. After all, if all that glittered wasn't gold, she'd more than happily put up with the silver. Especially if that meant she had the love of her life.

Trish wondered if she could talk to the person that she was when she had first met Randy, if that version of herself would have ever dared to dream that she would be where she was now. Personally, or professionally.

Three years had passed. She'd reached the pinnacle of her wrestling career and had become a business woman. She had found the man of her dreams, and he had asked her to marry him. And now they had their first child. Trish knew it couldn't possibly get any better than it was between them now.

Whatever struggles could and would come their way, Trish had absolute confidence. She and Randy would make it. No matter how serious the problem, no matter what the obstacle.

No matter what happened, the sun would always rise. A new day would always come. That was something you could always be certain of.

And something else Trish could be certain of? Randy and Trish would always be together.

To both Randy and Trish, that was all that would ever matter.

* * *

**A/N****: Trish and Randy will return very soon. The story will be called 'Impossible Princess'. Keep an eye open for it !! Love & Light guys, and thank you for reading. **

**P.S Check out my latest MySpace blog to see how this story was originally going to end…**


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